Alternatively
by CoolnRainy
Summary: An AU situation where Cal and Gillian are in a relationship by the time the show started, and how some scenes/scenarios in the episodes may have been different...
1. 101 Pilot

**A/N: **So, I got to thinking about how Cal and Gillian would be in an established relationship, and then how different things in the show would've been had they already been in one before the Pilot. So, this is a kind of an AU thing where I wrote a "one-shot" based on bits of the Pilot, but as if they were a couple. Then I was decided I'd keep going, and do other episodes in this way, sorta following the show's storyline, but with them in a relationship.

So, in this world, Alec and Gillian split up before Zoe and Cal did, and by this point, Cal and Gill have been together for a year or so ... Other than that, everything's more or less the same. And I guess this story will sort of meander along with the show :-)

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

x x x

**Chapter 1: Pilot**

The alarm clock chirped, and Cal groaned in irritation. It got switched off by the woman he had firmly clasped in his arms, and he sighed in relief, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Get up, Cal," Gillian mumbled after a couple of minutes.

"It feels too bloody early," he grunted.

"It is," she agreed. "You have that lecture this morning, remember? You have to be there at eight."

He let out another groan.

"Can't you go?" he implored.

"No," she said flatly, "and since you're gonna be up, you can make me some coffee."

Cal gave a "Ha!" noise, and then buried his face into her neck, kissing it warmly.

She smiled, and gave a small noise of pleasure. He kissed her a little longer, before she reluctantly pushed him away, planted a kiss at his hairline, and said, "Come on, Cal, up."

"What part of me are you talking to?" he grinned.

She rolled her eyes, and gave a sleepy chuckle. He sighed, gave a grunt, and then eased himself out of her arms and clambered over her to get out of bed on her side. She gave a small groan as for a moment the mattrass around her lost its comforting steadiness. He always did that. You'd think he didn't have his own side of the bed.

"You can make your own coffee," he told her, before vanishing into the bathroom.

She smirked, and cuddled face-down into his pillow.

When she woke up again, he was gone, and a steaming cup of coffee was sitting on the bedside table.

x x x

"Just the man I was looking for."

Gillian joined him as he strode along the corridor towards his office, having just gotten back from the lecture, and he paused long enough to kiss her cheek.

After some bickering about the need to hire someone new, they ran into Loker outside Cal's office.

"Here's the analysis for the blinking experiment," said Loker, handing Cal a file.

"Just getting in, Loker?" asked Cal vaguely.

"Yeah," said Loker with his typical nonchalant honesty. "Yeah, I got piss-drunk last night with my roommate, and I was just lying in bed this morning thinking about how nasty hot Nancy Grace is, and just trying to decide if I was gonna come in at all 'cause it's not like there's anyone here to fantasize about."

"No offense taken," said Gillian pointedly.

"I don't go for my boss's girlfriends," retorted Loker.

"Good thing," observed Cal, before turning to Gillian. "I think you're very fantasizeable," he told her consolingly, eyeing her body appreciatively. "In fact, fantasizing about you is what I spend most of my working hours doing."

"Thanks, Cal," said Gillian, in a tone of mock gratitude, her eyes twinkling.

"What do you need to fantasize for?" asked Loker. "You can experience it whenever you like. In the shower, in your kitchen, in your office-"

"And that would be your cue to walk away, Loker," said Cal without taking his eyes off Gillian.

Loker shrugged, and sauntered off.

"He has a point, you know, love," said Cal suggestively as they turned to walk to his office.

"Dr Lightman, I have the mayor on two for you," Heidi called to him.

"Right," he mumbled as they walked inside, and added to Gill, "How about it, then? We're in my office." He winked.

"I can't have sex in such a white room," she teased. "And you have to talk to the mayor. But I'll catch you in the shower later."

"Oh, now there's something to look forward to."

He grabbed the phone as she settled into the chair opposite his desk, and opened her pudding.

x x x

Back during the first few weeks of their relationship, Cal had become more and more struck by how sexually willing Gillian Foster was. Not only was she loving and utterly eager to give him any form of pleasure he so desired in the moment, she was happy to have sex whenever he liked. He remembered the first time it had truly struck him.

They had had a long and difficult day at work, followed by an unfortunate emergency with Gill's mother, who had had to be rushed to the hospital. He had been unable to go with Gill to the hospital, but by the time he had called to say he was on his way, she had told him she was already home, her mother was just fine, and come on over and let himself in.

When he got there, he had found her already fast asleep, even though the light was on and a book was resting open on her chest. She had obviously been waiting for him, but must have been utterly exhausted. So he changed into the pajamas he kept there, and climbed into bed beside her. He gently reached over to lift the book off her chest, stretched over her to place it on her bedside table and turned off the light. He then settled back against the pillows, stared at the ceiling, and felt gloomy. The case had had that sort of effect on him, and he had been looking forward to her warmth and affection.

Eventually, feeling utterly selfish, but unable to stop himself for seeking out the connection, he reached over, stroked her cheek, and whispered her name. She didn't move at first, so he leaned in to take her earlobe between his lips, before moving in to kiss her neck. She woke then, and without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and turned her head to kiss his hair.

He looked into her eyes and saw her bleary fatigue. He was about to pull back after seeing that, when she suddenly pulled him closer and kissed him deeply and with purpose, reaching down to pull his T-shirt off.

"You sure, love?" he whispered. "You must be exhausted."

She merely smiled at him, and kissed him again. And he saw it, the confirmation of his words, right there. But she seemed to not care, and he needed her so much at that point, that he accepted her willingness.

It was only after he was inside her that he had realized that she truly didn't have the energy for it. He had hesitated again, but she had encouraged him, squeezing him with her walls, pulling him closer, kissing him. He reached between them to touch her, because he could feel his release creeping up, and she seemed nowhere near. After a few minutes of gentle rubbing, she whispered for him to stop, to not worry, to come for her. He was desperately close, but he continued to try despite her consoling encouragement, until he couldn't stop the end.

He had collapsed over her, and she had lovingly stroked his hair, and peppered his face with kisses.

"I'm sorry," he'd whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she had objected sincerely. "It was nice, and really, it doesn't bother me, Cal."

He pulled out and started to move down her body to try and finish the job, but she held him back, and whispered, "No, Cal, it's okay. I won't."

"But-"

"I'm just not going to get there tonight," she'd said, and smiled warmly at him. "But that was lovely, and I'm glad you finished because I could see you really needed it. That was for you, Cal. I'm always happy to do that."

As she spoke, he could see that she was beginning to drift away again, so, with great reluctance, he chose to let her. But not before he kissed her lips, her cheek, her nose, her forehead, and whispered that he loved her and that he'd make it up to her.

The last thing that had drifted from her lips before she'd lost consciousness again was, "Don't be sorry, I'm not."

By the following morning, she had completely regained her usual energetic demeanor, and even snagged a quickie from him in the shower, orgasming very satisfactorily. She brushed off all attempts he made to apologise for the previous night, rolling her eyes, and asking who exactly he expected to take care of his needs if she didn't.

Fascinated, he had taken this as a challenge, trying to find where she drew the line. He took to surprising her in the bathroom when she was applying her make-up, in the kitchen while she was cooking, in the bedroom while she was getting dressed in the morning ... He would wake her in the middle of the night, or corner her in the middle of the afternoon. He would sneak up on her when she was reading, working, watching TV, out in the garden. She never ever said no. She always reacted with surprise and enthusiasm.

He began a frequency test, coming after her as soon after a session as he could get himself going again. He took to manipulating entire marathon weekends of lying in bed, alternating between making love, resting and eating.

It was only when he began finding her at work that she began to reign him in. A bit. A very slight bit. She would always kiss him, hold him, look at him with lust before breathily telling him that as soon as they were alone, she was going to give him everything she could. If there was nothing pressing, no meetings or clients, she would drag him somewhere private. He remembered several hot oral sessions they would have in a store-room when they knew they wouldn't be disturbed.

She never got tired of it. And it amazed him. Amazed him that she seemed as turned on by him as he was by her. That she always enjoyed it, and made sure he knew it. She was his, completely.

It had been after about three weeks of this that she had finally called him on it. He had followed her into the ladies room at a restaurant, wondering if he could get her to leave before their food arrived. She had been startled when he appeared, but kissed him warmly anyway. Finally she'd said, "What are you waiting for me to do, Cal?"

He'd paused.

"What?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed your progressive sexcapades. You want public sex now?" she seemed more curious than anything, knowing he was up to something.

He'd stared back at her, before finally saying, "You never say no."

She'd looked at him, baffled, and asked, "Why would I?"

"Everyone says no at some point," he'd tried to explain. "I can't find your point."

"I think you have a very good grasp on the location of my point," she'd teased.

He'd chuckled, and shaken his head.

"Let's go, then," she'd said.

Agape, he'd asked, "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, if you're really in the mood -"

"I'm always in the mood for you," he said, grinning, "but I could eat first."

She'd sighed, exasperated, and demanded, "Well, then, what'd you follow me in here for?"

"I just wanted to see if this was your point."

She'd eyed him with narrowed eyes, and said, "Don't go all scientist on me, Cal. I'm not one of your experiments."

"But you're so very fascinating," he'd smirked, and her eyes twinkled at him.

But before she could respond, there was a gasp and an "Oh!" from the doorway.

They both glanced at the startled woman who had just walked in, and Cal said, "Sorry, love, just got lost."

He'd grabbed Gill's hand and they had walked back to their table, where they had proceeded to have a truly delicious dinner and Gill spent most of it teasingly reprimanding him for considering depriving her of it just for experiment's sake.

"I mean, you could've just _asked_ me!"

"Where's the fun in that, then?" he'd demanded, grinning.

x x x

"You could've just told me what this was for," Gillian told him in exasperation, waving the note at him.

"Nah, you're a terrible liar," he said, pulling his face into a mildly disgusted expression, but unable to hide his smile.

"Normal people think that's a good thing," she pointed out.

"You saying I'm not normal?"

She smiled at him, and shook her head, before saying, "You coming?"

He grinned at her, and said, "You bet. You still owe me a shower date." And he leapt to his feet to stand suggestively in front of her. The last few days had been so busy that they had only really managed to collapse into bed and fall straight to sleep after such late working nights. He wasn't used to it.

"Only if I get dinner first," she warned him. It was said teasingly; they both knew she wasn't used to it either.

He rolled his eyes, and said, "You know, you've been driving me crazy over the past couple of days, wearing your slinky dresses," - he ran his hand softly over her hip - "and slurping away on straws, I almost think you're doing it on purpose."

Her eyes twinkled into his, before she leaned forward to place a soft promising kiss on his lips.

"Dinner first, dessert later."

"I'll make you dinner, then we'll have free range of my kitchen, too," he smirked.

"Hm, you know how excited I get around food," she murmured in a tone that he thought could only be described as sultry.

He beamed at her, put his arm around her, and guided her out the door as she added suddenly, "I'll need a real dessert first, of course."

And he chuckled, kissed her cheek, and said, "Of course."

**TBC**

**A/N: **Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading :-)


	2. 102 Moral Waiver

**A/N: **Hey hey, been busy with exams and stuff. Here's chapter 2 … By the way, I really enjoy writing around dialogue already in the show, so I hope that doesn't bore you :-)

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

x x x

**Chapter 2: Moral Waiver**

Gillian entered the lab to find Cal playing around with his micro-expression training program.

"What d'you see?" he asked as soon as he was aware of her.

Ignoring the screen, she said, "I see a skeptical emotionally-distant scientist obsessing over facial twitches." She kissed his cheek.

"I'm not emotionally distant," he grunted, playfully offended.

She grinned, but simply asked, "Why are you doing micro-expression training?"

"I got it started on triple speed," he informed her, unable to keep the smugness from his voice. "You know when you try and hide your emotions, they leak out at a fifth of a second? Well, this is testing me at a _fifteenth_ of a second." He got another one right, and looked immensely pleased with himself.

"Hm. Impressive," said Gillian, not really interested, because she already knew how good he was, and she had other things she wanted to talk to him about. She decided to use this as her opening. "You know who else is impressive on that thing?"

Cal saw right through it. "Is this another attempt to get me to take Ms Torres under my wing?" he asked irritably.

"You need somebody to back you in the military case," she pointed out.

"I've got you for that," he grunted.

"I'll be courtside with Earl White," Gillian began, and Cal zoned out while she started in on some kind of sports mumbo jumbo he didn't understand, and felt resentful. This whole new employee thing wasn't going to work out for him if it meant he didn't have Gillian at his side anymore.

"Well, we got a meeting at Fort Meade in half an hour," he said, trying not to sound too whiny. She, of course, picked up on his irritation anyway.

"Look, I'll – I'll meet you there later, okay?" she said quickly, trying to compromise. "But let's get Torres involved. She's a natural. She's got phenomenal instincts."

"Doesn't mean she knows her science," he grumbled.

"Dr Foster said you wanted to see me?" came Torres' voice from the doorway. Cal shot Gillian an accusatory look, while she smiled brightly at him. He narrowed his eyes, and said crossly, "For that, I'm not putting out tonight."

Gillian laughed, and said skeptically, "We'll see."

"Um …" said Torres, looking uncomfortable.

x x x

Cal was somewhat distant when Gillian showed up, still annoyed with having to work with Torres instead of her. Gillian, typically, took it in her stride, and merely shot him a pointed "Nice to see you, too."

Things quickly returned to normal, however, as she enjoyed watching Cal flirt outrageously with Sergeant Scott, and then had more fun sharing the joke via eye contact with him as Torres looked stunned.

When Cal said, "I love a man in uniform, you know?" to Torres in that sultry tone of his, it took all her power not to collapse into giggles. He saw it in her eyes, though, and she knew that that cheered him up.

"I don't want you anywhere near Sergeant Scott," she told him as they made to leave the interrogation room after Torres. She moved to stand very close to him, and murmured suggestively, "You're mine."

"Oh, yeah?" he smirked, and moved so he was as close as he could be, while still comfortably maintaining eye contact. "You got any uniforms to make up for it?"

"I don't need any," she whispered, and he grinned.

"See, it's fun working together," he pointed out.

Gillian rolled her eyes, and stepped away again.

"I never said it wasn't, Cal, you know I love working with you. This is about practicality."

He frowned at her, and said, "I don't wanna be practical if it means I have to spend less time with you."

"Well, the sooner you get Torres trained up, the sooner she won't need supervision," she reasoned.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well played, love. Let's go then."

And he swept from the room. Smiling, and feeling slightly proud of herself, she followed.

x x x

Despite having decided to try and work with Torres after all, Cal couldn't resist teasing her obvious disgust/contempt towards him. It was a level of fun he couldn't help. On some level, it reminded him of how he teased Emily - so sure she was right, even though they both knew he knew better.

Besides, he wasn't going to put up with being called an idiot by anyone, least of all some inexperienced uneducated _natural _who was barely older than his daughter.

Of course, Gillian didn't share this view.

"You should consider going a little easier on Torres," she suggested to him as they waited in line at a falafel cart outside the building.

"Why?" he snapped. "She's all false positives. See, that's the trouble with naturals. They don't see what's missing. They're all instincts. No science."

He could feel her rolling her eyes at him, but he ignored her. "Can a have a falafel sandwich please?" he said to the vendor.

"And an Italian ice," Gillian inserted. "Grape." Then she added to Cal, "I thought you agreed to try and teach her. Being nice about it is often more effective."

Cal wasn't listening. He was watching the vendor assemble his sandwich with no gloves on. "You wash your hands today?" he asked, eyeing the man with disapproval.

"Uh, yeah, of course," said the guy, reaching up to rub his neck.

"You have any kind of pain in your neck?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

"People touch it when they lie," Cal told him, ignoring Gillian's hand on his elbow. "That's a classic manipulator. You been to the bathroom today?"

"Oi," mumbled Gillian. She'd been present for enough of these kinds of confrontations to know not to try and stop him.

"Uh, no," said the vendor, his hand moving automatically up to his neck, before he caught himself.

"Oh, great," said Cal, revolted, before announcing at the top of his voice, "Anybody else want a side of faeces? Anybody? Side of faeces?"

Gillian was shaking her head, and tugging him away by the arm, as various people froze and choked on their falafels.

"Let's go, Cal," she insisted.

"It's bloody disgusting!" he snapped, as he allowed himself to be dragged away.

"I know."

"I mean, how hard is it to wear gloves?"

"Not that hard. Let's go someplace else."

"And God knows what else he's been touching. You know how many men leave semen on railings?"

"Gross!" she objected, wrinkling her nose in a classically disgusted expression.

"Seriously, they did a study, right, where they tested what was on railings in malls and stuff, and-"

"I get it, Cal," said Gillian, and sighed before stopping. "You know what? I've lost my appetite."

"Took you that long?"

x x x

"How's it going with the ball player?" was how he announced his presence as he entered her office.

"Ball players play baseball," she said vaguely, staring at the screen, clutching a chinese takeout box and chopsticks in her hands.

"Huh."

She could tell he didn't give a damn. She had long since given up, and accepted that she was the watcher of basketball, baseball and football, while he had dibs on cricket, soccor and rugby. Neither had managed to gain any appreciation for the others' sports, and in essence that fact had merely resulted in a huge decrease in their sport-watching activities. Neither missed it very much.

"Chicken dumpling?" she offered distractedly, and then winced as she remembered the lecture she was about to get.

He didn't disappoint.

"Oh, no, come on love, you know I never eat meat I can't see. No, really. No. You have no idea what's in there. I don't know why you never listen to me, and after what happened at the falafel stand? Seriously, Gill-"

Gillian had taken a bite anyway.

"Just shut up and take a look at this," she snapped once she had swallowed. "Earl White just took state for the first time. The kid's on the list for every NBA scout in the country. But when asked about playing pro-ball …"

Cal stood behind her, and leaned down to drape his elbows on her shoulders. He rested his chin on her head as she showed him the clip.

"Chin thrust," he said at once. "He's angry."

"Very. Earl White should be on top of the world. Why is he secretly angry?"

"I spot the liars. You're the feelings department. Follow me. I got something for you."

In spite of herself, she followed him. She had to admit that working with Loker was also a bit lacking in the fun department, and she actually felt pleased that Cal was still including her on the military case. Until she realised he hadn't even bothered to call Torres when she walked in on them, and said, "Hey. I thought we were done with this case."

He then proceeded to mercilessly make fun of her, obviously very pleased with himself. Poor Torres was reduced to a spluttering mess. By the time she left the lab looking thoroughly put out, Gillian was feeling decidedly exasperated.

"What?" demanded Cal, looking at her. She shot him a very clearly irritated expression, and he said, "Oh, and now you're starting on me? Don't say something you'll regret." She then gave him a combination of impatience and disgust as she left. "And I saw that," she heard him mutter behind her, and smiled. She knew he had also seen the smile she had been trying to hide.

x x x

"We should help him," she was saying to Cal as they sat in his living room that evening, sipping wine and waiting for Emily to get home from the movies. The three of them were supposed to be going out for dinner.

Gillian had come up with the idea to provide Earl White with a fund, and had debated on when to talk to Cal about it. She had decided to wait until he was relaxed at home with a drink. Unfortunately, he seemed to be in a very bad mood.

"Why'd you have to push Torres on me?" he demanded suddenly.

Surprised at the sudden outburst, she said, "I thought things were going okay."

"I can't work with her," he said firmly. "I want you back."

She gaped at him, and then discarded the Earl White situation for a later time.

"What happened?"

"She doesn't understand ..."

She watched his indignation overtake his ability to speak.

"What?" she prompted eventually.

"Boundaries. She doesn't understand bloody boundaries."

If he hadn't been very clearly upset, Gillian would have laughed out loud at the hypocrisy of that. Instead, she asked gently, "What'd she do?"

There was a long silence, and then he mumbled reluctantly, "She read me."

Oh.

Well, that made sense. He didn't allow people to read him, except Gillian, of course. So Torres was too good.

"What did she read?"

He hesitated, fidgeted, and then he finally burst out, "I was trying to explain to her. I was telling her why it's important to know the science. That if you don't know the science, people can get hurt. I was trying to help her understand. And then she read my shame. She can't go reading my shame, Gill."

Gillian bit her lip. Oh dear, reading Cal about his mother was not a good thing to do, not at all.

"It's okay, Cal," she said soothingly. "She doesn't know anything."

"It's too bloody close. And why can't she keep her smug little mouth shut about what she sees?"

Another moment where, if it weren't for his obvious aggravation, she would have laughed. She wondered when Cal would see that Torres was really his mini-me.

"I want you back," he insisted. "I need you around so I don't care when I'm being read."

She sighed, and said, "Remember when you said you spot the lies, not the feelings? Well, it's the same with Torres, Cal. She has no idea-"

"It's not the point," he snapped.

"Yes, it is," she said firmly. "That's the nature of our workplace, Cal, it's just that since we've never had anyone who's good enough to read you, you've never had to deal with it."

"You read me," he pointed out.

"Because you let me," she retorted. "And because I understand you. Look, speaking as someone who _has_ had to deal with it, knowing that people don't know the why makes all the difference."

"What if she finds out the why?"

"And how would she do that?"

He shrugged, and looked upset. She sighed, and said, "How about we alternate, then. Take turns working with her."

He turned and looked at her.

"Then we still don't get to work together," he said sulkily.

"What do you mean? We still got to work together on this case."

"Will they all be like this?" he asked.

"Whenever we can, yeah," she shrugged.

"Good," he said, relaxing slightly. "But I'm not going to go easy on her."

"I know."

"She _needs_ to learn."

"I know."

He watched her, and then she leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss. And then another one.

"I missed you, too," she whispered.

He grinned then, delighted.

She shook her head slightly, but she was smiling.

"So, what was that about your ball-player, then?"

**TBC**

**A/N: **Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading :-)


	3. 103 A Perfect Score

**A/N: **Thanks so much for your reviews! I'm glad you enjoy this concept, because I'm having fun writing it. By the way, yes, the idea is more or less to write one for each episode, so I hope you guys stay interested ;-)

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

x x x

**Chapter 3: A Perfect Score**

"Hello, love. How's it going at your Mum's?" Cal said into the speaker, as he removed some of his memorabilia from New Guinea from a box on his desk in his office. Gillian was examining some of the items scattered on his foor, clutching a mug of coffee.

"Ah, okay, I guess," said Emily's voice, sounding faintly disgruntled. "You know how Mom is. She needs to know everything I'm doing every second."

"Bloody intrusive, innit?" he agreed, and then asked innocently, "What are you doing this very second?"

"Dad," she complained, and he saw Gillian grin, obviously amused.

"What?" he grunted, lifting a heavy carved African bust from a box. "You still need a lift later?" he added as he lifted it to show Gillian with his eyebrows raised. She smirked back at him.

"Uh, no, um, actually I've got a big chem test on Friday, I-I'm gonna sleep over at Katie's house."

Cal had frozen, and was staring suspiciously at the phone as Emily stumbled over her very inept lie.

He looked up into Gillian's face, and read enough discomfort to know that she had heard the lie, too. She eyed him consolingly, but made no other gesture at all. He took his cue from her, and decided not to react either. He merely said, "You sure about that?" half hoping she would change her mind.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice very high in her attempt to sound overly innocent.

He paused again, but decided on the whole that nothing was going to change. So, forcing himself to sound cheerful, he said, "All right, love you."

"Love you, too."

He hung up, and then rounded on Gillian.

"You heard that, right?" he demanded, knowing she had. But he needed to get it off his chest anyway. "Word repetition and her vocal pitch went up when she was talking about staying at Katie's?"

"I'm sure it was nothing," she tried, comfortingly.

"Well, what'd you hear, then?" he challenged.

"I … heard a typical teenager in the … process of forming her self-identity."

He stared at her, knowing full well that she knew he could see right through her. He also knew she was trying to say that he shouldn't take it seriously, and that all teenagers hide things from their parents.

Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes at her, and retorted, "That's psychobabble, that is." He handed the bust to her, and as he walked away, he added, "She was lying."

He knew she would be able to hear the hurt in his voice.

"Emily needs to have her own secrets. That's not the same thing as lying," she called after him.

He stopped and turned back to look at her.

"You think it's good I didn't say anything?"

"Yes, and I'm impressed you managed," she told him, smiling.

He walked back to her, and kissed her gently.

He sometimes almost forgot that the people he loved would lie to him. They didn't always see the big deal about it. Zoe had lied to him constantly, albeit mainly to get a reaction. Being with Gillian made him forget, because she rarely lied to him. And when she did, it was always a courtesy lie that she knew they would talk about anyway. Those ones where people say, "I'm fine," when they clearly weren't. She wouldn't blatantly lie to him. Partially because she wasn't stupid enough to try.

He remembered what a relief it was that she didn't mind him always knowing the truth. And that he didn't mind her knowing what was going on in his head either. In fact, it was something they liked about each other.

But with Emily, it was different. Of course she would lie to him now and again. He supposed if it was something bad that she was lying about, he would punish her when he found out. But if it was merely a teenager secrecy thing, then what was the problem? He hated that he almost associated truth with loyalty, because loyalty was what he associated with love. And he knew truth and love did not necessarily go hand in hand.

Except with Gillian.

So he said, "I love you, did you know?"

She chuckled, and said, "I did."

x x x

"You going to her funeral?" he asked Gillian as they shook off Torres and headed into his office. He was referring to Judge Starke's daughter's memorial service from his case. He was stuck with Torres again for this one, and he rather hoped he could get some of Gillian's input.

However, she answered, "I can't, I'm meeting with the deputy chief of NASA. One of their experimental jets crashed and they think the pilot's lying about what happened."

This whole busy business thing was annoying. So he said irritably, "Oh, well, that's not surprising, since the whole space program was based on lies. Some of their top scientists were Nazi's recruited after the war."

"They gave the world Tang."

His ears faltered over that comment for a moment, before he realized it made absolutely no sense to him. "Eh?" he asked her, perplexed.

It was then that Heidi interrupted to inform him that his daughter had just been brought in by the police, while a very sheepish looking Emily stood at her side, avoiding his eye.

Horrified, he fiercely told her to wait there, and strode from the office to have a word with the police. Gillian tactfully tried to vanish into her office, but he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to his side as he confronted the cop, asking, "What happened?"

The cop told him that Emily had been hosting a rather raucous party with what looked like somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and fifty kids. He added that there had been alcohol present, and the cops had been called because of the noise.

Cal shook his head in disbelief, and thanked the guy.

"No problem, sir," he replied, sounding sympathetic. He probably had teenagers of his own. "We'll leave this to you to sort out."

Cal nodded, distracted, and the cop nodded at him and Gillian, and departed with his partner.

"A party," he mumbled to Gillian.

She sighed, and said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"For?"

She gave him a quick smile, and said, "Not _for_ anything, Cal."

He nodded, his focus coming back. It had been a sympathetic sorry.

"What am I supposed to do about this, then?" he sighed.

"Make sure she knows it's not okay," said Gillian. "And don't take it personally."

He looked into her knowing eyes, pulled a face, and nodded.

"All right, then. I'll come by your office to get you when we leave."

He was feeling gloomy. Gillian gave him a kiss on the cheek, and said, "No, I need to stop by my place to get some fresh clothes. I'll see you later."

He nodded, and turned back to his office to face his daughter.

x x x

Gillian was walking along the corridor at the offices when she saw a large black bag on a cardboard box moving towards her, the familiar legs of Emily Lightman moving underneath them. Trying not to laugh, and feeling a rush of sympathy, Gill called out, "Emily! Let me help you," and reached to take the black bag off the box, and the other one she was clutching in her hand.

"Oh, yeah," said Emily in relief. "Uh, thanks, Gillian."

They wandered in the direction of Emily's little project room, and Gillian eyed her with affection.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," sighed Emily in exasperation. "Just my dad being …" She petered out, because there weren't really words to describe him. He was just being Cal.

"Yeah, he can do that," said Gillian understandingly, trying to hide the fond feeling that had just washed over her.

"He never lets me do anything fun," Emily grumbled.

"Oh, you mean like having a hundred friends over and getting pulled in by the cops?" asked Gillian, amused.

"Uh, yeah," agreed Emily, almost laughing as well in spite of herself. "Yeah, like that."

Gillian hesitated, but she felt as though Emily had to understand that Cal had trusted her, so she told her quietly, "He knew something was going on when you called, you know."

"He did?" Emily placed the box down, and looked questioningly at Gillian. "Well, why didn't he say anything?" she asked, puzzled.

Gillian sighed, and explained gently, "If he said something every time you lied to him … Oh, he knows he'd lose you."

Emily looked taken aback, and slightly disturbed. She turned away, frowning thoughtfully, but before Gillian could say anything, Loker stormed in demanding her attention.

x x x

Gillian was pecking away at her laptop in her office when Emily knocked on her door. She glanced up, smiled, and waved her inside.

"You done?" she asked.

"Just about," said Emily. "I don't know if the crime _was_ quite worth this punishment, though. I mean, Dad has a lot of stuff, and let's just say organization isn't exactly his forte."

Gillian laughed, but before she got a chance to say anything, Emily spoke again.

"I wanted to ask you, Gill, does he do that for you?"

Gillian frowned into Emily's wide, earnest eyes.

"Do what, Em?"

"Not say something when he knows you're lying?"

Gillian stared thoughtfully at Emily, wondering why she was asking this. Then, choosing her words carefully, she said, "No, but that's because he knows I'll – I'll know … when he knows ... If that makes sense."

"But isn't he afraid of losing _you_?" asked Emily, looking mystified.

Gillian was slightly touched at the concern she heard in Emily's voice, and said gently, "He knows he won't lose me."

"But he thinks he could lose me?"

Gillian suddenly stood up, walked over to Emily, took her arm, and gently pulled her to sit beside her on the sofa.

"It's different, Em," she tried to explain. "I chose this. And I can read him back anyway ... well, for the most part. But people need to have their own lives, their own secrets. And let me tell you, it's a big deal to let go of that completely. He knows that, and he tries to let you have yours."

"But you let go of it?"

Gillian gave an awkward kind of shrug, in hesitant confirmation, but didn't actually answer. She would never be able to explain what that meant, and yet how very natural it had been for her to do it with Cal. She supposed it had slowly been happening over the years before they had become a couple anyway.

Emily's eyes had glazed over and drifted off to stare behind Gillian's shoulder at the bookcase standing there. She brought them back to focus on Gillian's eyes.

"Did he do it for Mom?" she asked quietly. "Not call her on her lies?"

Gillian froze slightly. She wondered if answering this question was overstepping the boundaries of Cal's secret life. Something he was ironically extremely private about. But this _was_ Emily … At long last, she sighed and said as diplomatically as possible, "Not enough."

Emily frowned again thoughtfully, and then said, "But she chose it, too. So he shouldn't've had to."

Gillian felt as though she'd stupidly walked into some kind of trap. In her attempt to defend Cal by not simply saying "No," she had inadvertently condemned Zoe.

"She didn't understand," she murmured hesitantly. "Not really. I think it was harder than she expected."

"I guess I can understand that," said Emily with a small smile, and Gillian felt relieved. Then Emily said sincerely, "Good thing he found you."

Gillian smiled, too, but didn't say anything.

"Well, I'd better go and fetch the last box I have to sort," said Emily without enthusiasm, and got to her feet. "Are you coming over tonight?"

"Probably," said Gillian. There was rarely a reason she and Cal didn't spend the night together.

"See you later, then. And see if you can talk Dad into pizza for dinner."

"What a good idea."

x x x

"Mm, that was good," said Gillian, swallowing the last piece of her pizza. "Good call, Em."

"I am rather brilliant," agreed Emily, smiling, before adding, "Tell him that, would you?" as she jerked her head in her father's direction.

"I don't dispute that, love," said Cal, smirking.

He was lazing back in an armchair, his hands resting on his stomach, watching the two of them sitting on the carpet at the coffee table, having shared a pizza between them. The box was now lying open and empty on the table, and Emily and Gillian, already having changed into their pajamas, were grinning happily. He had declined ordering himself pizza, and had had baked beans on toast instead. Not that that had stopped him from stealing a piece as it had arrived, much to their indignation.

"Well, I'm gonna go call Dan," announced Emily, getting to her feet and picking up the pizza box.

She ruffled her father's hair as she passed him, and grinned at Gillian before heading towards the kitchen.

"So, what'd you say to her?" Cal asked once Emily had vanished upstairs.

"Hm?" Gill was wiping her hands with her serviette.

"Don't play dumb, all right," he said with mock severity, pointing his finger accusingly at her. "She was peeved before, now suddenly she likes me again."

Gillian chuckled, and asked, "What makes you think that has anything to do with me?"

"Because she knows I knew she was lying, and only you knew I knew, so you must've said something. What'd you tell her?"

Gillian smiled lovingly at him and, her eyes twinkling, said, "That you love her."

"Liar."

He was eyeing her with affection, but the intense curiosity was there as well.

Gillian considered it, and then said truthfully, "Well, that was the gist of it."

"But there was more?"

She watched him thoughtfully, and then said, "You know, remarkably, I love the fact that I don't care that you read me. For the most part, anyway."

"Deflect often?"

She rolled her eyes, the smile never leaving her lips, and then said kindly, "I more or less told her you care too much about her to call her on her lies. And that she should be grateful, because letting go of your privacy is hard."

He nodded thoughtfully, smiling gently. Then, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him, he asked, "You meant hard for you?"

"No."

"No?"

Gillian bit her lip, trying to find the right words. How could she explain how the invasiveness of that had turned into intimacy? How it was fine because he let her understand him too, because it was mutual? How she loved that they had that something special between them that nobody could take from them? That it created their own little world that, despite the occasional frustration at having no privacy, was _theirs_ and nobody else's? That it was, in fact, the reason she knew they would last? She suddenly realized that he probably knew all of that already anyway, and she shouldn't have to find the words at all.

So she settled on, "It _was_ something I had to adjust to, but it's not something that's a problem for us. You know that."

He nodded, watching her. Then he said, "C'mere."

She shuffled closer, so that she was kneeling in front of him. She placed her hands across his left knee and rested her chin on them, smiling up at him. He reached down to run his hand softly through her hair.

"What else did you tell her?" he asked.

"Are you manipulating me?" she asked, but continued before he could reply, saying, "She asked if you have the decency to ignore my lies too, and I told her no. But that it doesn't bother me."

"And?"

"And she asked if you did it for Zoe."

"And you said that I didn't," he smirked, stroking her hair again.

She didn't reply, because she knew he saw the yes.

"What'd she say about that?"

"That Zoe shouldn't have expected you to."

He stared for a while, and she knew he was feeling a combination of regret for how he had treated Zoe, and affection towards his daughter's understanding. Then he sighed, and murmured, "And you told her that it was still hard for her mother, right?

He eyed her face, and then smiled, and said, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She paused, and then asked hesitantly, "I hope you don't mind that I talked to her about that."

"Of course I don't," he said earnestly. "Who better?"

She shook her head very slightly in amusement, her chin still resting on her hands. "How about you?" she suggested.

"Nah, don't be ridiculous," he teased. Then he ruffled her hair, something he knew irritated the hell out of her, but that he couldn't resist sometimes. He liked seeing her looking less immaculate when they were alone, because it reminded him how comfortable they were together.

"Hey!" she objected, pulling her head away, and he laughed cheerfully. She gave his knee a little slap, and then stood up. He looked up at her, still grinning.

She sighed, and said, "Tea?"

"Sounds lovely."

She shook her head at him, and turned to head for the kitchen. He watched her go, and enjoyed the view.

**TBC**

**A/N:** Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts :-)


	4. 104 Love Always

**A/N:** Cheers again for your reviews :-)

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

x x x

**Chapter 4: Love Always**

Gillian was walking with Special Agent Ericsson outside the embassy building, deep in conversation about how they were going about securing the Korean Ambassador's son's wedding. The last of the decorations were still being put up, and the first of the guests were beginning to arrive.

"You know, it's gonna be pretty hard to spot your guy," Cal's voice said from behind them. "I mean, at most weddings champagne and resentment flow together, right?"

"Not a wedding fan, huh?" said Ericsson, as Gillian tried to hide a smile.

"Nope, don't trust 'em. Lead to marriage."

Suddenly his eyes were focused behind them. Gillian turned, and saw none other than Alec hovering on the steps, having clearly just come out of the door and stopped at the sight of them. She felt her heart freeze, and then her face flush slightly. She hadn't seen or spoken to Alec in over a year, since before she and Cal had gotten together. However, she knew Alec knew, because her mother had inadvertently let it slip when she had called Alec for his birthday. And because he was looking at Cal with definite resentment.

"Hey," Alec said uncomfortably, edging awkwardly towards them.

"Hey, yourself," said Cal when Gillian didn't say anything.

Alec gave him a scowl, so Cal turned and ambled away. She felt oddly abandoned, until she realized he had come to a stop only a short distance away.

"Hey," said Ericsson.

"Uh, Ericsson, this is my ex-husband, Alec," said Gillian, wishing she hadn't had to use that term.

Ericsson hesitated as he politely shook Alec's hand, and seemed to pick up on the tension, because he said, "Excuse me," after a quick glance between them, and strode back inside.

"Hey, Gill," said Alec softly, now that they were alone.

Gillian swallowed nervously, and said as lightly as possible, "Hey, Alec. Didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, most of my office is here today," he mumbled, glancing away. He seemed strangely edgy.

"Oh."

It was all she could bring herself to say, while mentally kicking herself for not having thought of that before.

"I have to leave right after the ceremony, anyway," he added quickly. "I hear you guys are here for extra security or something?"

"Uh, yeah, something like that." She felt at a complete loss for words. Looking at him brought back feelings of deep hurt, but nothing else. No anger. No resentment. No nostalgia. No affection. Just the hurt that she would always associate with the way they had parted. The way he had abandoned her in the time she had needed him the most. The way that had finally clinched it for her that she needed something different … someone different.

"So, I hear you and Lightman are together now," he said suddenly, and she felt her shoulders tighten slightly at his restrained displeasure.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know, my mom said that she told you," she said, trying to make it sound as though they were discussing her buying a puppy or something.

He gave a curt nod, and said, "I have to go and talk to some people, but I'll see you around."

She realized she was biting her lip, and she quickly cleared her throat, and said, "All right, yeah," and before she even had the chance to say anything else, he was striding away across the parking lot.

She gazed after him, and was only aware of Cal standing beside her when he gave a small cough. She turned to him, and he gave her a tentative smile. She rolled her eyes, and mumbled, "You made yourself scarce."

"Thought you might like some privacy."

"Right." She sighed, and asked, "Did you think he'd be here?"

Cal shrugged, and said, "Didn't occur to me, but it makes sense." He eyed her shrewdly, and she felt oddly annoyed. The only thing in the world that she had never allowed him to read her about was her relationship with Alec. That had always been too private. And there he was, seeing her discomfort, and God knows what else.

At the very least, he seemed to have picked up on her annoyance, because he said simply, "Should we get Torres and Loker to mind the metal detectors?"

She gave a nod, and he strode over to them and directed them away. Then he turned back to her, took her hand, and began to circle the area, gazing around. She sighed mentally as she followed him. Her flash of irritation had vanished as quickly as it had come, and she felt a bit embarrassed. She gave his hand an apologetic squeeze, which he returned as soon as he had glanced at her face, and gave her a quick half-smile.

x x x

"Only you would tell somebody to cancel a wedding ten minutes before it starts."

They were leaving the building again after meeting with the ambassador, who Cal felt was being an idiot for the most part. Cancelling the ceremony was the only way to ensure safety for everyone, and, as far as he was concerned, a big celebration was entirely unnecessary. He should know. It hadn't helped his marriage much.

"It's just a suggestion," he said vaguely.

"Do you realize how much today means to the families?" she demanded, sounding both amused and exasperated.

"No, fortunately," he said shortly, not really wanting to get into it. So he changed the subject, asking, "Um, did you catch his smile?"

"Yeah, it could've been a cultural gesture," said Gillian, obviously distracted by the large wedding cake that was being wheeled by. "Maybe he looked down to show his respect."

"Looked like embarrassment to me," he grunted.

"I could dive into that cake fully clothed," said Gillian, no longer pretending to be interested.

"There's an image," he said brightly. "A better one would be without the clothes, though."

She passed him a grin, and said cheerfully as they headed towards the metal detectors, "I love weddings. They're such a beautiful celebration of love and hope. Plus there's cake."

Cal had to fight back the urge to ask how she could possibly still feel that way after everything that had happened with her and Alec. He supposed the cake thing had to play a pretty significant role. He personally felt that love and hope could be expressed with far more meaning and sincerity in private. As they passed through the metal detectors, he decided to take his usual cynical tack, and said, "Bride's pretending she's a virgin. Groom's pretending he's found "the one". And the in-laws pretending they like each other. Christmas for liars."

He stared at her as he stood with his arms outstretched, while they glided the wand over him.

"And yet, lovely," was her determinedly bright reply.

"You really are idiotically happy, aren't you?" he called after her, as she headed away from him. He supposed then, that as her current boyfriend, he should probably stop being quite so negative about the whole thing. He caught up to her, and put his arm around her waist. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he said casually, "Don't take me too seriously, right, love?"

"I rarely do," she told him, smiling into his eyes, and kissed him briefly on the lips.

They continued on their way, Gillian digging for something in her purse. It was then that he saw Alec in the distance, watching with an undeniably bitter look on his face. He turned away quickly, though, and vanished before Gill looked up again. Cal hesitated ever so briefly, but decided not to say anything.

x x x

"So, who's the guy?"

Torres had wandered over to him as he was circling the room at the reception, trying to ignore the oriental dancers.

"What guy?" he asked, glancing around to see who she meant.

"The one who came to talk to you and Foster before the wedding. The one who wouldn't stop glaring at you the entire time."

Cal turned and glowered at her.

"That's none of your business," he told her coldly.

"Well, he seems to know her pretty well," she said, regardless. "And he hates you."

"Seriously, Torres-" he began, annoyed.

"Ex-husband would be my guess."

He glared at her for a few moments. This annoying habit she had of poking into his personal life was going to be a problem. But now wasn't the time to get into it. So, he merely turned and walked away, knowing that she would take that as a yes. The dancing stopped, and the wedding party entered the room to much applause.

At that point, Gillian wandered over to him. She was looking so bloody sexy, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised by Alec's reaction. He was certainly pleased that he was gone by now.

By the time the commotion followed by the shooting had happened, he had forgotten all about Alec. He was distracted by the fact that two angry people had foiled him. He stormed around in a fierce manner, dragging Gillian with him wherever he went. When they returned from the hospital, he was busy considering why the ambassador was lying.

"Who're you calling?" Gillian was asking him as he took out his cell.

"CIA, see what they've got on the ambassador," he said vaguely.

"Well, you know that's gonna be classified. Who's your contact?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

"Laura."

"Laura who?"

"Laura of the CIA," he said, with a slight smirk.

"Hey!"

Alec was striding towards them, looking at Gillian. Cal quickly wandered away on his phone towards the stairs. He heard Gillian say, "Hey, what're you doing here? I thought you were leaving right after the ceremony."

"Didn't get out in time."

Damn, thought Cal, as Laura answered the phone. He quickly told her what he wanted to know, and asked her to call him back. Then, keeping his phone at his ear, he edged back to the doorway, where he heard Gillian saying, "I can't do that."

"Sure you can, you're in charge, right? Gill, it's important."

Cal sauntered out into the passage, making it look as though he was waiting on someone on the line.

"One person gets walked out, and everybody's gonna try, and we're not gonna be able to keep the place sealed," Gillian was saying, her voice apologetic.

At that moment, Alec spotted Cal, and Gillian turned as well to follow his gaze. Cal quickly reverted his gaze to the ground and sauntered back to where he came from, scuffing the floor with his toes. He then settled on a step to wait for her.

When she came in, she merely asked, "What did Laura of the CIA have to say?"

"She'll get back to me."

"And what did you glean from your eavesdropping?"

He grinned at her resigned tone, and said mildly, "That you're a rule follower."

"Well, you pissed him off."

Cal was about to ask how, when they were interrupted by Torres and Loker thundering down the stairs towards them.

x x x

Cal was striding down the passage to find Ericsson, when he came across Alec talking urgently into his phone. He seemed agitated. As soon as he saw Cal, he hung up the phone and turned towards him. Cal gave a polite nod, and attempted to keep going, but Alec stopped him.

"Any idea how much longer we're gonna be here?" he asked. "Sorta feel like a hostage."

"Hard to say, really," said Cal noncommittally. "We've got to find a man with a gun, you know."

"Look, I-I need to get outta here, so, seriously, can you help me?"

Fascinated as to what Alec could want so desperately that he was willing to appeal to him for help, Cal gazed at him as he said abruptly, "No. Sorry, it's impossible."

"We both know that's not true," objected Alec, trying to hide his dislike and replace it with a friendly appealing expression. "You can get anybody out you want to." Cal merely stared at him, so he began to speak in a more desperate tone, and Cal wondered how stupid this guy had to be to actually voluntarily come over and lie to him. "Look, my job's on the line. Deputy Director just chewed my ear off, because I didn't make a meeting I was supposed to be at."

Cal reached over, and placed his hand on Alec's shoulder, saying, "Look, we both know that's not true, don't we? Hey?"

"What are you implying?" Alec demanded, but weakly.

"Well, that wasn't a work call, was it?" Cal pointed out, before asking, "You using again, Alec?"

"Excuse me?" Alec furiously shrugged his shoulder free of Cal's grip.

"Well, that's a yes," he said mildly, and added, "Thought you were gonna try and clean yourself up, hey?"

"Look," snapped Alec, his voice very low and cold. "That's none of your business, all right?"

"It is when you're asking for my help to get your fix," retorted Cal.

"I'm just asking a favour. It's the least you can do seeing as you're screwing my wife."

"Ex-wife," Cal pointed out. "With good reason, apparently. And you'll have to hang in there a little longer."

He turned and stalked firmly away from Alec's sputtering fury. One more minute of conversation, and he would have punched the asshole's nose in. He could barely believe the nerve of him, although addiction did strange things to a person. He wondered if Gillian had put it together, and he hoped she had, because he didn't relish being the one to either tell her or lie to her about it. All in all, his life would have been far better if Alec hadn't bloody well have shown up here today.

x x x

Gillian was standing at the entrance waiting for Cal when Alec appeared in front of her again.

"Oh, you're still here?" she asked. The guests had been let out almost an hour before.

"Yeah, just wanted to say goodbye."

He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, and there was sweat beading on his upper lip.

"Oh, all right," she said, trying to give him a warm smile.

He didn't return it, and said instead, "Sorry about pressuring you earlier. It wasn't right."

"Don't worry about it," she said quickly. "I understand."

And suddenly, as she watched him glance over his shoulder, she began to.

"Right, well, sorry anyway." He smiled then, and said, "It's good to see you, Gill. You look lovely, today."

She felt a flash of something, some kind of softness towards him, and said with sincerity, "Thanks. It was good to see you as well."

She reached over to squeeze his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she added, "Take care of yourself."

He gave a nod, and she saw a flash of shame cross his features.

"Goodnight, Gill," he mumbled, and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"Night, Alec," she said quietly.

He gave a last small smile, and walked hurriedly away, his hands tucked deeply into his pockets. She watched him, feeling sad.

x x x

"So, why was Alec pissed off then?"

They were wandering along the decorated pathway that evening towards their car, Cal's arm warmly around her shoulders.

"You mean, because you were spying wasn't reason enough?" she asked him, amused.

She felt Cal shrug, and he muttered, "Did he say anything?"

"Not with words, no," she said, remembering the flicker of hostility that had flashed across Alec's face as they had turned to see Cal subtly ambling around behind them.

There was a silence, and then she said faintly, "I think he's using again."

She couldn't help it. His fidgety demeanor, his distracted desperation to get out, the blatant lying … She wished she could get confirmation, and she wondered if Cal had managed to catch anything during his "reconnaissance" of their conversation.

"Yeah, he is."

She was surprised by his certainty.

"You sure?" she asked, looking sideways at him as they reached the sidewalk.

He stopped, and turned to face her. He smiled gently into her eyes, and said, "Yeah. He asked me for help to get out, too. So I asked him."

"Oh," she whispered. Well, if he had stooped to asking Cal, his desperation was pretty intense. She also knew that if Cal had asked, Call knew the answer.

"You okay?" he asked her.

She sighed, and looked at him.

"I don't know why I care," she murmured. "I mean, it's been over a year since the divorce … since I've even heard from him-"

"'Course you care," said Cal dismissively. "But he's gotta decide to fix himself."

She nodded. She knew that, but it was difficult to realize that he obviously wasn't making that decision.

"C'mon, love," said Cal, kindly. "Let's get some dinner. We'll order you a nice piece of cake."

As he put his arm around her, and led her to the car, she felt warmer. This was exactly the sort of thing Alec had never given her. Support.

"Sounds great. I didn't get a chance to enjoy any of that wedding cake."

"I know, you're radiating disappointment."

**TBC**

**A/N:** Cool, in case you were wondering about the timeline, in my world Alec and Gillian split up like 2 years before the Pilot. Yes, Sophie still happened, but earlier. I'll go into detail later. Let me know what you think. Thanks so much for reading!


	5. 105 Unchained

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**A/N: **Thanks so very much for your reviews, guys. Much appreciated! Sorry this one took a little longer – I tend to write versions for whatever episode hits my inspiration at the time. So I have a whole bunch for future ones, but this one took some concentration. Anyway, hope you like it :-)

**Chapter 5: Unchained**

"Do you think it might be helpful to clue me in to your little experiments?" Torres was demanding in annoyance.

"No," said Cal flatly.

Mentally rolling her eyes, Gillian decided to step in and teach a little since Cal clearly wasn't going to. He had come by her office before his visit to the prison, and together they had come up with the burger idea after she had discussed with Cal the need to see Trillo's reaction to disrespect.

"Gang leaders like Trillo learn early that respect is key to survival," she told Torres. "They need to respond to perceived disrespect. And it becomes what we a call an emotional trigger."

"He needs me to believe that he's reformed," Cal put in, "but when I talk to him with my mouth full, this is what we get." He pointed at the image, and said, "Nostrils flared, lips tightened."

"Anger," Gillian continued. "Meaning he can't control himself. I mean, disrespect is still a trigger."

"You're saying Trillo hasn't changed," said Torres, clearly not interested in hearing any other thoughts.

"Not necessarily," said Cal. "When he talks about his past, he shows us something else."

He paused at a different image that Gillian found quite fascinating.

"Shame," she murmured. "He's truly ashamed of what he's done."

"Yeah, but the anger trigger-" Torres objected, but Cal cut her off firmly.

"No, that's a survival trigger. And they're really hard to turn off. Doesn't mean he hasn't changed, though."

Gillian could see the fascination he also felt, and she wasn't surprised. Other than the fact that he had had to deal with people who didn't change in his life, he was also partially obsessed with whether he himself had managed to evolve from his upbringing and his youth.

"You need to compare this to an emotional baseline," she said to Torres. "Old videos. Call the governor's office, and see if they have anything they can send over."

"Preferably before someone sticks another fork into Mr. Trillo," said Cal unnecessarily, and Gillian felt a twinge of annoyance towards him.

"Yeah, no problem," mumbled Torres resentfully, and got up to leave. Her face showed a deep personal pain and anger, and Gillian felt all her suspicions confirmed.

As soon as Torres had closed the door behind her, Gillian rounded on Cal and demanded, "See that?" even though she knew he had. "D'you think you made the right call putting her on this case?"

Cal looked at her with that insolent expression that told her exactly what kind of a mood he was in.

"Who wouldn't want to be on this case?" he asked, his feigned innocence clouded by the feverish fascination. "Evolution takes millennia, but change in a lifetime,_ now_ … that's something to see."

Annoyed that he was pretending not to know what she meant and thus avoiding the subject completely, Gillian said firmly, "All the naturals we've seen – they share two traits. They are uneducated, and the other one-"

"The other trait should have nothing to do with the scientific question of whether a man can evolve."

He had interrupted her with that fierce uncompromising look in his eyes. Gillian's irritation grew, because although she had long ago learnt to deal with this mood, she was worried about how it might affect Torres. Particularly when working on a case that she was certain touched a nerve.

"Yes, but psychologically if she has dealt with a history of violence-"

He interrupted her again, snapping, "Hey! If she has troubled feelings about Trillo, then she has to learn to put them aside!"

He was being infuriating enough that Gillian found herself retaliating by saying cuttingly," Oh, so I guess if someone's gotta teach her to avoid her feelings, then you're the most qualified."

She stalked over to his desk and scowled at the window.

"Anything else I can do for you?" he asked after a pause, and she heard his irritation as well.

Deciding she didn't really want to be in a fight, she turned to him and admitted, "I do need some help with my firefighters," in as mild a tone as possible. He eyed her, and then gave a nod, reached for her hand and lead her from the office towards the lab.

Just outside the door, he turned and asked, "You still like me, or do I have to worry about losing you to one of your firefighters?"

She gave him a teasing smile, and said, "I'm not sure, let's see how cute they are."

"Oi," he mumbled, but he returned the smile before they entered the lab together.

x x x

That night as they lay in bed, drifting off to sleep, Cal shifted a few times, feeling antsy and distracted. Since he was lying draped over Gillian, it wasn't long before she was mumbling, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh," came her muffled disbelief, and he smiled.

"Just wondering about changing. Do you think Trillo's changed?"

She shifted so that she could look at him, and after a thoughtful pause, she said, "Looks like it. I don't know if he's changed enough, but he's different."

Cal chewed on his lip, and felt uncomfortable. He didn't really want to have this conversation with her again, but he couldn't help wondering anyway. Luckily she seemed to know what he was thinking, and brought it up for him.

"Cal, come on, stop wondering if you've changed. I've told you, you don't need to change."

She had, in fact, told him that many times, but he countered with his usual, "You didn't know me before."

"I know you now, and I love you now. Stop doing this to yourself. You're you, not your parents, not your upbringing, not your social circumstances. You're just you."

He had closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch her say this, because the look he knew was in her eyes always made him feel vulnerable.

"Anyway," she continued, "if you were so awful that you think I'd have a different opinion of you, you clearly have changed, so this is a moot point."

He felt her shuffle and he opened his eyes to see that she had settled back into her pillow, and closed her eyes.

"The people around me never changed," he told her. "Torres doesn't think people can …"

"Torres has reason to believe that," Gillian reminded him. "She's not talking about you. Anyway, like I said, I'd really rather you stayed the same."

He grinned, and asked, "You don't even want me to turn into a firefighter?"

"Ha ha."

x x x

Cal headed into the restaurant he and Gillian had agreed to meet at after she had been to the firefighter's memorial service, and he had dealt with Holly Sando trying to shoot Trillo. They had purposefully made the date to negate the seriousness of both those situations, even though it was now past nine thirty.

Cal spotted her sitting at the restaurant bar, sipping some red wine and looking so painfully gorgeous that he thought he'd better get over there before someone else tried to take her off his hands. He made a beeline for her, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Look, I'm not interest-" she began in an exasperated voice, but quickly dissolved into a smile when she saw it was him. Apparently he had been too late to prevent unwanted propositions.

"Hey," she said warmly, and leaned over to kiss him hello.

"Who was bothering you, then?" he asked, amused, and glanced around them. He saw a good couple of men losing interest when it was clear she was spoken for, but only one who looked bitter. "Blonde in the red shirt?"

She chuckled, and said, "Yeah. Let's get a table."

Once they had been shown to a small corner table, and Cal had ordered some of the wine Gillian was enjoying, he asked, "How was the memorial?"

"Sad," she replied, her face confirming it. "How was the attempted shooting on Trillo?"

He paused, and then said, "Sad."

They shared small commiserating smiles, and she asked, "What happened?"

"Trillo talked her out of it." He sighed, adding, "He's a new man."

She nodded, and said, "Good for him."

He felt her pointed emphasis that she agreed that _Trillo_ had needed to change and her list ended there. She then eyed him with a look of interest that told him in advance what she was going to say.

"And how's Torres?"

He bit his lip, weighing up how much he should tell her. She, of course, had long ago put together that Torres had been abused, but he knew she would be unimpressed with how he had brought it up.

"Uh … she's okay. I think."

She looked at him knowingly, and asked, "Did you force it out of her, then?"

He battled with himself for a moment, and then burst out, "Look, I apologized, and she's fine, all right?"

Gillian looked as though she was biting back a smile (albeit an exasperated one).

"Can we talk about something else, please?" he implored. "It's late, and I'd much rather focus on how beautiful you look tonight."

She gave a laugh, and said, "As long as she's okay, Cal."

"She is, I promise."

He allowed a moment for her to see his sincerity, and then asked, "So, were you dressing up for the firemen, then?"

"I was dressing up for a memorial," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Hm, well you look like you were trying to entice someone."

Truthfully, as far as he was concerned, she always looked like that. He allowed his eyes to purposefully run down to rest on her cleavage, before smirking and bringing them up to her face.

"How do you know it isn't you I'm trying to entice?" she asked once he was looking at her eyes again, and he saw both the laughter and her appreciation of his interest.

"I don't need you to, and you know that. You've always liked firemen."

He gave a wink, and he saw her getting slightly frustrated.

"I appreciate what they do for us," she retorted. "But if you're going to insist on harping on about this, feel free to dress up and see what it does for me."

"Oi, don't tempt me," he said, grinning widely at her.

The waiter arrived with their wine, and asked if they were ready to order.

"I've been too busy staring at her," Cal pointed out. "Give me a minute, yeah?"

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N: **Sorry this one was a bit short, but there wasn't much in the episode to elaborate on. Thanks for reading though, and let me know what you think! :-)


	6. 106 Do No Harm

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**A/N: **Hey guys, thought I'd procrastinate studying for my exams this week by finishing this one off. I've used this episode as a vessel for flashbacks, so I've alternated the scenes – one present, one past etc. I didn't italicize or bold the past scenes, because I always find that a bit distracting, but I'm sure it'll be clear enough anyway. And yes, I moved one discussion from the show to the past. Hope you like it :-)

**Chapter 6: Do No Harm**

When he got the call from the Burches begging him to help them find their daughter, Cal hadn't hesitated for a second before retrieving Gillian to work with him. He had shot straight to her office to tell her that the Burches had hired them after seeing a traffic camera photo of a girl wearing their missing daughter's sweater. Little discussion had been required, as they had both followed the story in the news when she had first gone missing. Gillian had snatched up her coat at once, and they had left together.

This case was important, and Cal knew he needed the best support he could get. Gillian was the next best in their field after him, and she had the added benefit of creating a much needed rapport with people in pain. There was no doubt in his mind that she needed to be on this case, and apparently none on hers either.

That was until their meeting with the parents. Cal had glanced over at Gillian at just the right moment to see her pain, and the realization had pierced his chest. How could he have forgotten? He cursed himself, because he knew it was far too late. He nonetheless made an effort when they left the house to let her off, albeit a pointless one.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked her quietly.

"Sure."

She stumbled slightly over her reply, and half hid her face from him for a moment.

"You know, 'cause I can do this one on my own."

Amazing how his priorities had shifted.

Predictably, she objected fiercely, "No! Not a chance." She looked at him, and added firmly, "I know what you're thinking and it's not going to be a problem. I'm fine."

It was one of those curtesy half-lies that he knew he had to accept. She needed to lie to herself for this one. He rubbed her back consolingly for a moment anyway, and then pulled away.

"All right."

x x x

The state he found her in when he went by her house was one that would haunt him for a long time afterwards.

Empty.

An empty Gillian Foster did not fit with normal life.

Eyes that usually shone with life, a face that was usually so openly expressive, emotions that coloured every moment of her existence ... All empty. Devoid of anything.

He had knocked a couple of times before she had opened the door. She had looked blankly at him while he had stared at her.

Empty.

She let him in, stepping aside without a word, and he had to force himself to walk inside as normally as possible, rather than grab her and clutch her to him like he wanted to. He didn't know what exactly she needed at that moment, but he was pretty sure a dramatic action like that wasn't it.

"Tea?" she offered.

"Yes please," he said.

When they got into the kitchen, however, he was the one who made it.

"Alec here?" he asked her, wondering if he needed to make a cup for him too, but she shook her head.

He made hers with sugar and a lot of milk, and then, placing it in front of her, he joined her at the kitchen table. For a few moments they simply sipped in silence. She wouldn't look at him. He couldn't keep his eyes off her.

So empty.

x x x

"Gillian Foster," said Cal to the detective as he strode into his office.

"Don Hues. Youth investigation division of Metro," said the detective when Cal didn't.

"Detective," said Gillian politely.

"Mr Hues is here to welcome us to the Burch case," Cal told her in a cheery tone that he knew would annoy the detective.

"Welcome isn't the word I'd use," Detective Hues said in a predictably contrary tone.

"Well, we won't get in your way, Detective," Gillian tried in her soft persuasive voice.

"Too late," he retorted. "You work for the Burches, right? Far as I'm concerned, they're still suspects. That puts you right in my way."

"Well, they didn't kill their daughter," said Cal mildly.

"Really. Any other tips?"

"We wanna find Samantha as much as you do," said Gillian in that same tone of voice that was bound to win him over soon. Cal watched her work the eye contact.

"When a kid's been abducted this long, odds are she's dead. You gonna help me find this girl's corpse?"

His hostile tone indicated the stress he undoubtedly felt, and had been feeling for some time, regarding this case.

"How do you know she was abducted?" asked Cal.

"And what about the traffic cam photo?" put in Gillian, still looking directly into his eyes.

Unsurprisingly, the detective chose to answer her first. Her tone and eyes were working on him, as they did on pretty much everybody.

"Lorraine Burch knit that sweater for Samantha off of a pattern that's sold up and down the East Coast. Could've been anyone."

He hadn't looked away from Gillian, and when it became clear that he had forgotten about Cal's point, Cal suggested more bluntly, "Maybe she just ran away."

Only then did he turn to Cal, and say, "There's no evidence of abuse, or neglect in the home. No alcoholism or drug use."

"Those are the usual predictors of a runaway," said Gillian quickly, "but Samantha was adopted. It's possible she had attachment issues; difficulty forming a relationship with the Burches. That could've made her run away."

Detective Hues appeared to be listening in spite of himself. Cal, meanwhile, was watching her closely for signs of emotion. She spoke with authority on the topic, and she seemed to be holding it together for now. She had already proved how useful she could be on the case, and he felt reluctantly pleased that she had refused to drop it.

x x x

"So where is Alec?" he asked after some time.

She shrugged, and he thought he saw something flicker in her eyes. He couldn't be sure. Her face had never been so blank before. However, he was pretty sure that that had been the wrong thing to ask about, so he quickly changed tack.

"Let's go somewhere," he suggested.

She looked at him now, and asked, "Where?"

"Anywhere."

All he knew was that he wanted to get her out of a house that probably seemed far too quiet to her. Far too empty, just like she was.

They ended up walking along the pier, the fresh cool sea air whisking across their faces. They sauntered side by side, her hands tucked deeply in her coat pockets, and his merely perched in his jeans. The waves crashed, and seagulls chirped. It was getting darker a bit early because of the cloudy weather. There were very few people around because of the chill.

Eventually he said, "If you need anything, Gill ..."

She looked over at him, looked directly into his eyes for the first time, and to his relief he saw something. A flash of the warmth that was so very Gillian Foster.

"Thanks, Cal," she said softly. "This is good."

x x x

The day was busy, and filled with activity. Cal and Gillian started by sorting through the tipsters, and then followed one up by visiting the house of a boy who had been friendly with Samantha. They had questioned Walter and searched his room, Cal allowing his ferocious urgency to take over.

However, he had been interested to find that Walter was a decent and loyal boy who hadn't even looked in the bag Samantha had left with him. In the bag, they discovered the business card of Samantha's shrink, which was where they went next. The shrink had been relatively unhelpful despite their attempts to get her to tell them anything useful, although Cal ascertained that she thought that some kind of abuse was happening in the home of the Burches.

Deciding to test them on this, he and Gillian returned to their home to elicit a reaction to verbal abuse at the very least. The phone call with Emily where he had pretended to yell and swear at her had, of course, been his idea. Gillian, who had been holding up remarkably well up until this point, had made a weak attempt to object.

"We won't do it for long," he'd said. "Just enough for you to guage their reactions."

She had sighed, and nodded. It had worked, even though the Burches had been suitably horrified. It was then that Cal realized that it was meeting with them that triggered Gillian's pain. Watching their hurt over losing their child was too much of a reminder.

It didn't hinder her abilities, though. She read their responses in a second, and then elicited the story of the burn from Mrs Burch. It was the eye-contact that did it. Cal had often joked that she had hypnotic powers with those eyes of hers. So clear and kind ... All it took was for her to capture the eyes of the person she needed the information from, and they would do whatever she asked, which was usually to confess to whatever they were hiding. This moment would have been nearly impossible without her.

As would the moment after Mr Burch stormed out of the room while his wife begged them to believe it wasn't her fault that Samantha was gone. Cal didn't know how he would have gone about consoling that desperate fear without Gillian. She instantly moved to sit beside Mrs Burch and took her hands.

"It's okay," she murmured quietly, kindly. "It's okay." She waited for Mrs Burch to look at her again, and then told her clearly and consolingly, "Sometimes adopted kids have trouble connecting. Thousands of mothers go through it. It's nothing to be ashamed of." Mrs Burch was gazing at her with tears in her eyes, but clinging to every word, believing her. "Okay?" Gillian whispered.

Cal watched her in quiet awe. He knew, of course, from experience how good she was at this sort of thing. But to watch her actually use her pain to help alleviate someone else's was something he could barely understand. It was so very _her_, though.

x x x

It was about a week later that she came to him. He had been checking in on her on a regular basis, providing quiet support where he could, and trying very hard not to break down from the continued emptiness that had overtaken her.

It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and he was at home reading a book and trying to ignore the fact that he and Zoe had had yet another argument about something very stupid that was undoubtedly a metaphor for something bigger. He heard the knock at the door, but ignored it.

He then heard Zoe muttering in a disgruntled fashion as she went to answer, probably about the fact that he was ignoring it.

"Gillian," he heard Zoe say in some surprise, and his head shot up.

"Hi, Zoe," came Gillian's soft voice. "Is Cal in?"

"Yes, he is, I'll get him. Come on in."

Cal was already on his feet at that point, and Zoe appeared in the doorway of their living room as he reached it.

"I know," he said before she said anything, but he caught something on her face that stopped him for a moment. "Why so shocked?"

"She looks awful, Cal. Is she okay?"

Cal was slightly touched by the concern he read. He knew there was no love lost between Zoe and Gillian, but he supposed even Zoe couldn't ignore the pain of a fellow woman going through something like this.

"Not really," he said.

They walked together back to the hall where Gillian was hovering uncertainly. Zoe was right. She did look awful. Pale, tense, blank ... Empty. Worse than he when he had seen her the previous evening.

"Hello, darling," he said gently, and she managed a wan smile.

"Hi."

There was a pause, and then Zoe said, "Would you like to join us for dinner, Gillian? I'm making lasagne. And when I say making, I mean buying and heating up."

This offer was so kind and out of character that Gillian agreed seemingly without thinking about it.

Zoe nodded and managed a good imitation of a friendly smile.

"Good, Emily will be pleased. I'll have it ready by seven."

And with that, she turned and vanished from the hallway. Gillian stared after her as though she wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but she seemed relieved. Cal was as well. Antagonism from his wife was really the last thing Gillian needed right now. He felt deeply grateful towards Zoe, not only for inviting Gillian so sincerely, but also for acknowledging that Gillian obviously needed to talk to him alone before dinner.

He glanced at his watch. It was just after five.

"Want to go for a walk?" he offered.

x x x

"You know, you were very good back there with Mrs Burch," he told her as they walked towards their offices, in an attempt to start any kind of conversation. "Very nurturing." He found that she was merely looking at him with a vague smile on her face, and he felt oddly uncomfortable. He tried to lighten the mood by suggesting, "Maybe you should get a puppy. I could talk to Obama's people."

She did provide a faint smile at the joke, but other than that it was clear he hadn't helped.

"That's not what it's about," she murmured, and then turned to her office.

Cal rocked back and forth uncertainly for a moment, and then followed her, catching up to her just as she was opening her office door. They both stepped inside, and he pulled her towards him and hugged her.

"Sorry," he mumbled into her hair.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," was her firm reply as she hugged him back.

x x x

They walked to a park nearby his house, and wandered along a path that led to a pond. They stopped and gazed into the water. There were heavy clouds in the sky, and it was dark and cold, which meant that once again they were alone.

Finally she spoke, her voice shaky.

"I've barely seen Alec over the past couple of weeks, you know. He doesn't go to work, he's not home ... He comes in in the early hours of the morning ..."

Here she paused, and swallowed hard. Cal was watching her closely, and he could see that whatever she was about to tell him was causing her a lot of pain and embarrassment.

"Um, before we got married, he had a cocaine problem," she began, and Cal felt his heart sink. "He's using again ... Ever since she ... left, he's been using. He won't talk to me. I feel like I've lost my husband, too."

Cal didn't say a word. There wasn't anything to say. What he did do was edge closer to her so that their arms were pressed together.

"I feel almost as though he's blaming me, or something. Maybe not, I mean, that could just be personal guilt that I'm projecting onto him, I don't know."

Cal's arm was around her shoulders now, and he was seething at the world for doing this to her, while inside his heart ached.

"He is running though, and he won't come back. I've tried so hard to talk to him, but he refuses, and just leaves the house. I - I just couldn't be alone anymore."

With a sigh of relief, Cal knew that that was his permission to be there for her completely. He turned to her, and at long last pulled her into the tight embrace he had been longing to give her for so long. They stood there with their arms around each other for a long time. She was gripping the material of his coat tightly in her fingers, and every now and then her shoulders shook slightly from the tears that kept escaping onto his shoulder.

Cal mumbled small useless things like, "He'll come around," and "You'll pull through," and "You're never alone." She thanked him for that last one, and told him that she knew that.

"Thanks for your friendship, Cal."

x x x

The following day, they found Samantha. Or they thought they did.

"My name is Jessica. And I have to get home before my curfew."

Those words brought a chill over everyone. They were said mechanically, and were the only words she spoke. The pain and confusion Cal saw in the eyes of her parents were intense. They were at a complete loss as they begged her to recognise them. To be their Samantha.

"My name is Jessica. And I have to get home before my curfew."

Ordinarily, Cal would have sent Gillian in there to talk to her, but not today. He refused to put her in that position. And not being gifted in the art of softening the hearts of people who didn't want to speak to him, he resorted to sending in Detective Hues.

He, Gillian and Mrs Burch watched through the one way window as the detective went in there and attempted to be as unimposing as possible. Mrs Burch had been frozen, and unable to face Samantha since the first reunion. However, she was unable to stop gazing at her daughter, her face filled with longing and pain and love.

When she asked what the detective was saying to Samantha, Cal said quietly, "He's telling her that you love her. But I really think she should hear that from you."

Mrs Burch shook her head, and said with tremendous hurt, "I've tried. She doesn't hear me."

"I know it seems that way," said Gillian in that gentle soothing tone of hers. "You reach out to her, and then she rejects you and you can't help but recoil."

Cal was gazing at Gillian warily. Her speech was ever so slightly shaky - he was sure only he could pick it up - and she was fighting to maintain her composure. Cal also knew that she was probably exhausted, because she hadn't slept very well the previous night.

"You don't know what it's like," said Mrs Burch, her eyes wide with pain. "You're not a mother."

Cal looked quickly from her to Gillian, who seemed to falter ever so slightly, before giving Mrs Burch an extremely kind half smile, and saying earnestly, "No, but I was."

Both Cal and Mrs Burch were watching her as she spoke. Cal was very surprised; he had never seen Gillian speak about it with anyone other than himself.

"My ex-husband and I adopted a baby girl ... Almost two years ago, now. And we brought her home from Delaware. And we bathed her and rocked her to sleep. Built a nursery." For a moment, she was half lost in the memory, before she came back and spoke in a more matter-of-fact tone. "In Delaware, the birth mother has sixty days to change her mind. We made it to day fifty seven." There was a long pause here as Gillian tried not to look too vulnerable, Mrs Burch looked deeply sympathetic and Cal looked at Gillian.

Eventually Gillian came to her point. "I didn't get to keep my baby, but yours is right there. Now you need to talk to her."

They both looked through the glass at Samantha, who was still looking blank, but afraid. Or Cal, at least, saw the fear.

"What was your daughter's name?" asked Mrs Burch.

"Sophie," Gillian answered quickly, clearly spent on the topic. Cal knew that Gillian rarely spoke her daughter's name.

Mrs Burch made a soft sound in commiseration. Then said hopelessly, "I tried so hard."

"Samantha needs to know that you love her no matter what she does," said Gillian firmly, and Cal decided to add some support to her sentiment.

"I think you should tell her," he said to Mrs Burch, nodding in Samantha's direction, before going back to look at Gillian. She looked back into his eyes for the first time since she had started speaking about Sophie, and they shared in her emotion for a moment.

"And maybe she'll tell us who took her," Cal added, returning his attention to Mrs Burch.

"It's the only way she'll start seeing you as her mother," Gillian said with quiet emphasis.

Mrs Burch stared at them, and then at Samantha, before she turned and walked with determination towards the door.

Cal and Gillian looked at each other again, and Cal pointed her into the room as well, while giving her as much support with his eyes as he could. He knew Gillian didn't want to talk about this right here, right now, so he allowed her to focus on the case instead. She gave him a tired look, and then followed Mrs Burch.

x x x

A month passed, with Gillian's and Alec's relationship deteriorating. Every now and then when she couldn't take the pain and loneliness, she would come to Cal and talk to him about it. It was a rare enough phenomenon for Gillian Foster to actually voluntarily discuss her personal life with anybody, that Cal knew how much she was struggling.

She was a startlingly private person for someone who seemed so very open. He knew that Alec was the only one she made a conscious effort to be open with, and that he, Cal, was the only one she would talk to without so much effort. When she chose to, that is.

Of course, he almost always knew what she was feeling anyway, and it had taken a long time for him to realise that the fact that she had chosen to work with him in spite of that must have meant she had felt the same beginnings of trust in him as he had in her.

She told him at one stage that she had started going to therapy to try and clear her head, and he was relieved. He could provide support, but God knows how little he knew about maintaining a healthy relationship. Never mind dealing with losing a daughter.

There was an evening where he had been about to go home when he had noticed her car still in the parking lot. He had been convinced that she had left already, and he knew her office had been dark when he had left. He went back upstairs, and couldn't find her anywhere. Finally he went up the back stairs to where they lead to a kind of outdoor passage on the side of roof that overlooked the city. She was standing there and staring at the world.

He walked over to her, and she glanced quickly at him and said, 'Hey," as she wiped her eyes. "I just needed a minute, before I went home."

"Sure," he said mildly. She hadn't sought him out this time, so he wasn't sure what to expect. To his surprise however, when she spoke it was directly about her daughter, the one thing she had refused to verbalise before now.

"Sophie's been gone for almost two months, she murmured, tears leaking out of her eyes. "I didn't know I could miss anything this much."

Cal gave a small noise, and couldn't say a word. He knew that impossible love for one's child as well as anyone.

"She's probably growing so fast," Gillian continued, her voice choked. "None of the clothes I'd bought probably fit her anymore."

"Yeah, I remember how crazy quickly they grow," he said softly, staring at her.

She turned to look at him, and shared something so private that it made him realise just how much she trusted him. "Every now and then, I'll see a little baby girl in her mother's arms, or in a pram and I uh … I think it's her. And I have to … fight so hard not to run up and cuddle some strange little girl." She half laughed at herself, but more tears leaked out. She wiped at them with impatience, and said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

It was the most ridiculous apology he had ever heard. He was just relieved that her emotion was coming back, her face was expressive again, her eyes shone with her feelings once more.

"It's just, uh … Alec won't talk about it. Or anything. So, we don't. We just don't talk anymore. He's ... Out ... half the time, and working the rest."

Cal took the "out" to mean "using". He wished he could find Alec and beat the stuffing out of him without hurting Gillian even more.

She sighed, sniffed and then gave him a forced smile. "I'm okay," she told him, trying to smile as she wiped her eyes again. "You can go."

At least he could read that she didn't really want him to. He couldn't blame her. He could see how lost and helpless she felt in her marriage. How the one person who should have been her rock was the one who was pushing her off the edge. She needed the support.

"No, I'm all right," he said vaguely, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently running it over her back.

A few more tears leaked out of her eyes, but she gave him a grateful smile. Finally she said, "I'm not sure how long I can go on like this ... With him."

Cal agreed completely. He didn't care what pain Alec was going through. Gillian was going through it, too, and she was trying to go through it together. She needed to. And as far as Cal was concerned, if Alec wasn't going to be there for her, she needed either to force him to try or to find someone who would be.

This was the worst possible timing though. Nobody should lose their whole family in one fell swoop. It was a sad fact of life that more often than not, that was the way it worked.

"I think I need to leave him."

x x x

Wrenching the truth out of Samantha turned out to be extraordinarily difficult, and Cal was sickened by the fear he saw in her eyes. When it became clear to him that there was another girl there, and that Samantha wasn't going to say a word, he gave up on attempting to gain her trust. He went for the guessing game, and was almost impressed with himself for getting it in six questions.

By the time they had tracked down the therapist and Heather, both he and Gillian were nervous wrecks. It didn't help when they saw the unconscious girl and the gun lying beside them.

Detective Hues wanted to call a negotiator, but Gillian insisted that they could talk to her. Cal had glanced over at her in surprise, but he saw the determination and confidence in her face, so he supported the thought.

Gillian had knelt down, and fought for eye contact. It had worked well, although for a moment it seemed to have backfired when the therapist grabbed the gun. But she obviously couldn't use it, and she eventually broke down, allowing them to rush in and rescue the girl.

When at long last they were able to leave after returning Heather to her parents and promising the detective that they would make as many statements as he liked the following day, Cal turned to Gillian. She seemed tired more than anything else.

"Let me take you home, darling," he said.

x x x

Gillian lasted three more weeks, and Cal knew she spent every available moment of them trying to get Alec to come back to her. Alec, however, was lost in a world of pain, drugs and denial. And Gillian was breaking.

Cal strode towards his car that evening, glancing at his watch. He was running late for dinner with some family friends. Or more accurately, friends of Zoe's. However, he figured that if he met them at the restaurant rather than meeting Zoe at home first, he might just make it in time.

He was just drawing out his phone to call Zoe to suggest this when he noticed Gillian hovering near his car. She hadn't come in that day, having left a message with Heidi that she was sick and would call him later. She hadn't, and Cal had been toying with the idea of stopping by her place to check on her before he had realised there wouldn't be time if he wanted to avoid another row with Zoe.

"Gill," he said at once, coming to stand right in front of her, and taking her hands in his when he saw how miserable she looked. She had been crying, he could see.

"Hi, Cal. Are you free to go somewhere?"

That had become her code for, "I need to offload."

"Of course," he said without hesitation. Zoe would be pissed, but he was prioritising. The fight would just have to happen.

They clambered into the car, and he sent Zoe a quick text to tell her that he wouldn't make dinner. He then turned his cell off in case she decided to call back and yell at him over the phone.

It was late, after seven, and cold and dark, so he decided to just drive around. Finally she told him that she and Alec had split up the previous evening, and she had spent the day moving her things into storage.

"I'm so sorry, love," he said, trying not actually to feel her pain.

"I just couldn't anymore," she mumbled. "So when he got home from work last night, I told him I wanted to talk. He tried to leave again, so I stood in front of the door like an idiot just so he would hear me."

There was a pause, and Cal didn't say anything. Cars and lights were whizzing past as he sped along the freeway, having long since forgotten which direction he was headed in.

"I had to summarise, but I told him that I couldn't be with someone like him, especially in times like this. I said that he had to try, just try, and so would I. He said he couldn't, and then he left anyway."

Cal gritted his teeth.

"I don't know, Cal, but I wasn't surprised. I was almost ... relieved. Because it meant that I wouldn't have to try with somebody I _know_ can't be what I need. I could get out now."

Cal's hand landed on her knee, and he softly caressed the material that was there. Her hand came to rest on his, and he gripped her fingers tightly.

"Anyway, we talked a bit more today about it, and we both know it's over."

She heaved a great sigh, and said sadly, "I never thought I'd give up so quickly."

Cal looked at her now, and finally spoke, saying, "You did everything. If he had tried as well, maybe you could have fought for a while longer, right. But for over two months, he's steadfastly refused to be there for you. You have to take care of yourself, Gill."

There was a long silence from her, and she gave a nod before saying with a soft smile, "That's what my therapist thinks."

"Hm, you must be rubbing off on me."

They exchanged a smile, their first one in some time. Then she said, "Thank you," and the simplicity of the words was countered by the deeply sincere look in her eyes. He looked back at her, and told her with _his_ eyes that he loved her, and that he would always be there if she needed him.

x x x

"Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be okay," Gillian said tiredly as they sat in her living room. She was clutching hot chocolate in her hands, and he was sitting beside her on the couch with his arm around her as she leaned into his chest.

"It'll always be hard," he said.

"But _this_ hard?" she asked, and he said nothing. Finally she muttered, "Maybe I _should_ get a puppy," and he chuckled in spite of himself.

"I wonder if I'll …" she began, but she petered out.

"What?" he asked.

She seemed suddenly tenser than before, so he pushed her up so that they were looking at each other.

"What?" he said again.

"Be able to try again," she said quietly, and she was looking at him uncertainly. He suddenly realised that they had never really discussed any future family options. He supposed it was a big deal, but in that moment he was pretty sure he would always do whatever the hell she needed him to do. He had never been one for expressing much sentiment, but he knew they belonged with each other, and he wasn't about to mess with that after so long.

So, after enough of a pause that she knew he had grasped her meaning, he said, "I hope so."

She seemed surprised, which he felt was unnecessary. Had she really expected him to leap to his feet and bolt out the window? It wasn't as though he was unaware of her situation. She was, after all, much younger than he was. Just over ten years. He reached over and tapped her chin with a finger, before adding, "If you ever feel you can, I'm sure it'll make you happy. Just give it time."

She was smiling at him now, and it was a smile that was twinkling with something akin to amusement.

"What?" he asked her in exasperation.

She laughed and said, "I like how you manage to say so much without really saying anything."

"Yeah, whatever," he grunted, pulling her back into his arms. After a long silence, he added, "You did really great with this whole case."

"Thanks, I try."

"I'd never have been able to do it alone," he confessed in a rare gesture.

"Shut up, Cal, I'm fine," she said in mock irritation, and he laughed.

"Yeah, I know."

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** Longer, kinda more angsty one … Hope you liked it though :-) Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


	7. 107 The Best Policy

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**Chapter 7: The Best Policy**

Cal was torn.

His sense of loyalty to Jeffrey Buchanan was being directly countered by his drive towards truth.

Over the years, the people Cal had trusted had slowly disappeared, one by one. Back when he was in therapy with Gillian, they had pinpointed the first one to be his father. A boy trusts his father inherently, until, suddenly, he couldn't. Gillian had suggested that being let down at such a young age, by a parent no less, was probably the reason Cal refused to trust a soul until he had some kind of proof that they were trustworthy. Cal had never trusted many people in his life.

He had had to lose his trust in a lot of people as well. His parents. His employers. His friends. His wife. These days, those he did choose to trust, he chose with good reason, the bar rising higher and higher as he continued to lose faith in people. But once somebody _had_ earned his trust, they had earned his staunch loyalty as well. It was kind of a package deal.

Cal had trusted Jeffrey for so long, the thought that he might have to doubt him … It was something he could barely come to terms with. But staring at the news footage of Ayesha Ward being arrested, he felt an undeniable sense of suspicion. Suspicion and betrayal.

He stalked out of his office, leaving Torres and her smug expression alone in there, and headed for Gillian's office.

"Hi," he said, poking his head in through the door.

"Hey," she said, smiling up at him from her desk. "I'm nearly done, sorry."

He stepped inside, and said apologetically, "I'm gonna have to call a rain check on dinner, I'm afraid."

She eyed him for a second, and asked, "What's the matter?"

He chewed on his lip for a moment. Spoken doubt seemed even more of a betrayal than thinking it. And at that moment, his suspicion was causing a great deal of guilt. He and Jeffrey were betraying each other, one way or another.

"Uh, it's Jeffrey, you know," he said uncomfortably. "He had that chemist arrested."

She had a very astute look on her face at that point, and very kindly (as far as he was concerned) chose not to push. She merely said, "Ah. So you're going to talk to him?"

Cal nodded, and said, "See you at my place later, all right?"

"All right. Say hi to Larry King for me."

He grinned at her, feeling momentarily better.

"Will do."

x x x

Gillian ate leftover spaghetti in Cal's living room as she watched Jeffrey on Larry King. He looked confident, charming and respectable. As he always did.

She, of course, knew Jeffrey somewhat, having had dinner with him, his wife and Cal a few times. She had always liked him well enough, and personally found it difficult to believe that he would have okayed a drug if he knew there was anything wrong with it. Although she wondered to herself as to whether that was a personal gut feeling, or trust in Cal's opinion of him. She watched him closely now, but saw nothing she hadn't seen before.

She sighed. She was worried about Cal. Jeffrey was one of Cal's last remaining friends from his past that he still liked. Still trusted. And that would be a pretty big thing to have to let go of.

She suddenly let out a huge yawn. She had had a long day herself, and frankly loathed the case she was working on. Those assholes at the State Department were exhausting people to have to work with, and she was beginning to feel as though she was the only person who cared about rescuing Marcus, as well as his sister. That knowledge was a burden, because it meant she was fighting Marcus's battle alone.

Yawning again, she decided to retire to bed, and wait for Cal with a didn't manage to keep her eyes open for long upstairs, and eventually turned off the light and snuggled into the bed with her eyes closed as she awaited Cal's return. She heard him arrive some time later through her foggy brain, and listened as he ascended the stairs, entered the room, and changed into his pajamas. She wanted to move to speak to him, but it seemed like an awful lot of effort, so she merely waited for him to join her.

He flopped down on the bed beside her after clambering, as usual, over her to get to his side. She opened an eye, and mumbled, "You're home."

"Yeah," he murmured, and she began to drift off again. She felt him slip under the covers and shift into his usual position, which was a very blatant invasion of her side of the bed, lying on his stomach with his left arm and leg draped over her, and his face half on her pillow.

It wasn't so much cuddling as him seemingly sprawled out on the bed with her body incidentally underneath where he happened to be putting his limbs. But she knew he simply liked having the contact. It had taken some getting used to, mainly because it so hindered her movement in bed, and also because his imposition into her space made her feel as though she would roll off the bed in her sleep. However, she came to realize that whenever she moved, his arm seemed to automatically tighten slightly around her, so that it was impossible to fall, and that had helped her settle down. Now, on the odd occasion when they didn't spend the night together, she missed his brazen presence, and struggled to sleep well without it.

Even now while waiting for him to get home, she had been floating in that strange space between consciousness and sleep, never quite able to let go. As she lay there now, she could feel her deep sleep begin to tug at her mind, and she sighed into it.

"I dunno what to think about him."

It took several seconds for the words to penetrate her brain, and then several more for her to tug herself back to the conscious world.

"What happened?"

"He's just … I dunno, Gill."

Her brain struggled to find something constructive to say, and eventually she managed, "You'll find out soon enough, Cal."

"Yeah. I shouldn't be doubting him though. I'm supposed to … I trust him."

Finally she dragged her eyes open, and stared at him. He was very agitated. She sighed, and said the thing she had been thinking, but had been too afraid to say out loud.

"It's been a long time since you and Jeffrey have functioned in each other's lives. You don't feel as blindly trusting towards him as before, because you haven't had to for a long time. You just have to _learn_ to trust him again."

Cal frowned at her, and she gave a tremendous yawn. He chuckled, and said, "All right, go to sleep, love."

"Thanks," she mumbled, closing her eyes, and checking out almost at once.

x x x

When Torres told her the next day that the Priox victim was being taken off life support, Gillian's heart sank. This raised the stakes significantly, and whatever conflicted emotions Cal had been feeling last night, she knew this would make them much worse. She grabbed her coat, and fled from the building to find Cal. She knew she needed to talk to him. She had hardly done a very good job the previous night, and he had left very early that morning to talk to Ayesha Ward.

She found him staring gloomily through the window into Drew Coleman's room, and walked over.

"Hey," she said, and he looked up at her in some surprise. "Torres told me you were here," she explained, and after a look at his face, she gave him a gentle kiss and asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Not for Mr. Coleman, it's not," he said shortly, and wandered over to a wheelchair behind her. He sat down in it, and rolled towards her as he said painfully, "Maybe Ayesha Ward was right."

She looked at the strained look on his face and, lost in the sudden need to protect him, she said, "You don't have to do this. If you wanna choose your friendship first, you can just hand this over to the authorities; let somebody else investigate it."

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll do a bang-up job," said Cal darkly.

"I'm just saying that … You can walk away."

He seemed to consider it for a moment, before he looked up and said, "What if the drug really is killing people?"

He looked so very worried. She eyed him and felt a helpless longing to tell him that this wasn't his responsibility. That it wasn't his fault if he walked away. But she knew it was pointless, that he had long since chosen morality over his loyalty to Jeffrey. That whichever one he chose, it wasn't going to end well for him.

She heaved a sigh, and decided to let it go. Instead she said kindly, "Come on. I need to show you something back at work."

He stood up, and she took his hand as they walked down the hall. She knew how down he was when he didn't even give her a salacious look at the way she had worded that, and merely gripped her fingers as though hanging on to something.

x x x

_How many people in this world do you trust? How many?_

_I don't know__,__t__en. Six._

_Right. Well when you get to my age, it'll be three._

Well, he supposed it was down to two now. It didn't matter that Jeffrey had turned out to be innocent. Cal had believed him to be guilty, or at least possibly. Even now, he couldn't rule out the possibility that Jeffrey would bend some rules to get his way. It wasn't the same. And Jeffrey knew it. It felt like a shit sort of break-up, as they had both acknowledged that they could no longer trust each other.

He sat there in his office and felt disturbed by the realisation that the only two people in the world he trusted were his daughter and his girlfriend.

Following that thought pattern, he got up and headed to Gillian's office. She was sitting on one of her couches watching the news report on the siblings she had spent the last few days saving. She had been incredible at the whole thing, and he had been kept abreast on the proceedings by her furious ranting about the stupidity of the moron she had been stuck working with.

He flopped down on her desk chair and when the report had ended and she had turned off the TV, he said, "Well, at least one of us had a good day."

She looked at him, and said reasonably, "You saved his reputation. Kept him out of jail." She continued to watch him, and then added, "Jeffrey will come around eventually. You've known each other too long."

He frowned, and shook his head.

"Quality, not quantity."

She sighed, and said, "Come on, Cal. You have quality."

"Had. It's ... He's not the same anymore."

"Well, nor are you."

"Right, well, the point is, I'm not gonna come round either. Things change, right?"

She looked taken aback, and said hesitantly, "Sure."

"What?"

She bit her lip, and he knew that she didn't want to say whatever it was she had thought. Which, of course, made him all the more curious.

"What?" he said again.

She sighed in exasperation, and after a moment, spoke carefully.

"Just because things change, you don't need to dismiss them. Things can change for the better, Cal, if you give them half a chance."

"You think I'm just giving up."

He watched her watch him, and knew he was right. All the same, he suddenly didn't feel like caring anymore. Or thinking about caring. Or talking about caring.

"Let's go out," he said. "I owe you a dinner."

She looked at him for a moment longer, and then nodded. He knew, however, that something had bothered her and she was only letting it go because she knew he had had an awful day. He watched her gathering her things and putting on her coat while he thought about what she had said. Or what she had meant. He didn't want to be presumptuous, but he wondered if she was afraid he would give up on her.

He glanced at the framed photograph of the two of them that sat on her desk, and thought of the one sitting on his. It was funny, really, how small mindless things like that said so much. He had many photos of Gillian scattered around his life, whether he was in them with her or not. On the fridge, in his library, on his dresser. Next to pictures of Emily. In pictures with Emily. He liked memorabilia of the things that mattered to him, and anyone wandering around his home would have little doubt as to what those were.

It wasn't as though he had any pictures of Jeffrey around.

He was suddenly aware of her standing in front of him, looking ready to go and watching him expectantly.

"It's been a long time," he said.

"Hm?"

"It's like you said. It's been a long time since I've had to trust Jeffrey. The fact is that I don't know if I can trust _this_ Jeffrey, right. I'd trust the one who came to my Mum's funeral to the end of the world and back, but this one has to earn my trust again, something he's not interested in doing. But you most certainly don't, and I'm not anticipating a situation where you'll have to. But I won't give up if that happens, okay?"

For a moment he couldn't read her face, and then she smirked, and said, "Mind reader."

"Please don't make me talk about this anymore. I need a beer."

He stood up, and strode past her out of her office.

"You're so male," she mumbled as she followed.

"And a steak," he continued.

"But thanks."

He turned to face her, and grinned as he walked backwards.

"And sex."

She rolled her eyes comically, and teased, "Would you like fries with that?"

"Do I have to pay extra?"

"Nothing comes for free."

"Except the best things in life," he countered, and stopped so that she almost bumped into his chest. He used her momentum to grab her and kiss her passionately.

"Get a room," grunted Torres's voice as she swept past them.

"Thanks for the tip," he called after her, and she shot him a thumbs up before vanishing into the lab. "Do you think she'll ever stop talking back?" he grumbled.

"I hope not."

**TBC**

**A/N:** Thanks for reading guys! Let me know what you think ;-)


	8. 108 Depraved Heart

_108_

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**A/N:** So I'm posting this one now, because I've had it more or less written for a while. Plus I had a long-post-exam-weekend to totally go for it! I'm having fun with this fic – I hope you guys are still enjoying it!

x x x

**Chapter 8: Depraved Heart**

Suicide.

Two suicides.

It didn't help that he was stuck dealing with Torres being all nosy and naturally brilliant.

_That lady looked so sad._

Sod her for seeing it after watching the film for two seconds. Sod her for seeing it at all.

That evening, he had griped about it to Gillian over dinner, and she had consoled him as best she could. Unfortunately he wasn't very consolable, because the real issue at hand was the suicides. Gillian, of course, knew that better than anybody, but she had taken her lead from him and not discussed it much. He slept very badly.

When the news of the third suicide got to him the following day, he was struck by an instant wave of panic. Inherent fear. An outbreak of suicides was something akin to his worst nightmare. He needed Gillian there. He needed her thoughts. Her support. Her bloody rationality that would balance out his emotional involvement. Of course she was nowhere to be found.

Almost to his relief, Torres was there and anxious to investigate. Between the two of them, they managed to mobilise the Group, and set up a war centre in the conference room. Cal glanced at the front doors compulsively, hoping every time to see Gillian stride through the door, but to no avail.

"Where's Foster?" he found himself asking.

Torres gave him an odd look, and said "She's out on the SEC case."

Oh yes, that was where she was.

The discussion in the room threw around ideas and thoughts that he barely heard. He needed something concrete. Anything. This wasn't right, he could feel it. He felt afraid again, and he strode out. Suddenly he called to Torres, "Get Foster to call me, I need to talk to her. Where the hell is she, anyway?"

Torres looked at him like he had lost his mind as she said again, "She's out on the SEC – are you with us here?"

Oh, right, he had already asked. Bloody hell, he _was_ losing it. She had even told him that morning that she wouldn't be at the office until later because of the SEC case. He took out his cell and called hers three times in a row, but her phone went directly to voicemail every time. How the hell was he supposed to do this alone? He needed her _here_ with him.

He went to his office, and watched the film again. He didn't make it through because he was feeling too jumpy, so he got up and paced his office. He made a few fruitless calls to people who couldn't help him. He tried Gillian again, but with no luck. Loker had apparently gone to join her, but he couldn't get through to Loker's phone either.

Sod it all!

By the time Gillian did finally get back, he was stressed out. Frantic. Hugely distracted. He had bullied and snapped at everyone else there. The sense of urgency was weighing him down, and they were making no progress at all. And it all culminated in a lot of resentment that he threw at her as soon as he saw her, just because she had dared to be gone. He didn't pretend to rationalise it.

"Where you been?" he asked coldly when she stepped into the conference room.

Her expression faltered for a millisecond as she registered his mood, but she said politely, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"I'm a little busy right now," he said, feeling hard and challenging. After being completely unavailable to him all morning, how dare she come in here and ask to speak to him, just like that. He pointed his pen at her and, unable to stop the resentment, said, "Could've used you a couple of hours ago. Uh, I uh called you … I think twice."

He knew he sounded upset, and felt irritated with himself for making it clear to everyone he bloody well employed how much he needed Gillian Foster. He also hated that she was looking at him with that horrible understanding expression in her eyes. Damn her.

"Just a minute," she said, more firmly. Understanding, maybe. Backing down, no. "Please?" she added when he merely glared at her.

"What, what do you want?" he snapped.

Antagonizing her in front of everyone made him feel almost as though he was reasserting his authority, his capabilities. He hated feeling so bloody helpless, and he sure as hell didn't need to let it show.

She stared at him, _knowing_ why he was doing this, and he saw her frustration that he wouldn't give her privacy. Finally she said, "I'm on my way to meet with Caroline Hollin, but I just wanted to make sure that you're okay."

She must've been caught up by Loker. She had obviously come back just to see how he was doing, and at that moment he felt extremely annoyed by it, even though that had been what he had wanted her to do all morning while he'd tried to call her.

"I'm fantastic," he sneered.

The others in the room were shifting uncomfortably, obviously trying to pretend not to be aware of the stand-off between their bosses. Those with papers or folders in their reach grabbed them and tried to absorb themselves in the suddenly fascinating contents. The ones who weren't so fortunate merely stared awkwardly into corners as though they were thinking about other things. Any other things. They were probably wishing for one of those proverbial holes to appear and swallow them up. Torres was the only one who stared openly at Cal and Gillian, frowning.

Cal knew he should stop, that he should not be trying to demean Gillian in front of them. But he couldn't help himself. She was taking it in her stride, though. Calm, collected, firm. Not even slightly offended.

"You know, because I can put Hollin on hold for a while until things quiet down around here."

Oh, sure, _now_ she was willing to be there for him. And making it clear to everyone else in the room, too.

"No, I told you. I'm fantastic," he said dismissively, still sneering, and ignoring the rational little voice somewhere in there that was trying to remind him how much he did, in fact, need her. That that had been the whole point.

She looked at him dangerously at that point, and he knew he was pushing it. She certainly wasn't going to let him get away with his public attempt to belittle her.

She stepped forward and said carefully, "You didn't make it to your meeting with the Mayor."

Damn it. That was one hell of a curve ball.

"Cancelled it," he said stupidly.

"No, actually you didn't, and it's been on the books for three weeks."

"Well, I meant to cancel it." His tone was getting more and more antagonistic.

"Cal," she said quietly, warningly and he knew she was asking him to be reasonable, to stop being so stubborn and to accept her help. The help she knew he wanted.

"Go mother someone else," he said, voice cold as ice.

Suddenly she almost smirked at him as she turned to leave the room, and he knew she had won. That childish comment followed by her dignified departure did it. Nobody would buy for a moment that he could bully Gillian Foster like he bullied them. He was perversely proud of her strength. The smirk had also held a hint of her twinkle, so he knew he hadn't actually hurt her, although he knew she wasn't exactly pleased with him.

"Everyone back to work please," he shot at the staff, and they all flew from the room as fast as they absolutely could, relieved to be freed from the unnerving atmosphere. He stared after Gillian as she headed straight back out of the building without looking back.

It was that something that he cherished in her. She never played the victim with him, but she didn't bother trying to control him. He was already filled with regret, and he knew she probably knew that, too. Knew that he had only lashed out at her because she was the one he trusted to take it.

It was ironic as all hell, and not in a good way.

If only she had been _there_ before.

x x x

Gillian was annoyed, but that was it. Nobody could have walked away from an exchange like that with Cal Lightman, and not feel at least some urge to slap him. She was feeling a pretty significant one. However, she knew what it was. It was simply how he responded to stress. He became antagonistic, bullying and lashing out at anyone he could. She had known him far too long to take it personally.

She had in fact been victim to it many times, although not for a while now. If she was remembering correctly, the last time he had been like this had been when he was still with Zoe. The more he and Zoe had fought, the more he had attacked the world. Gillian included. She had been through enough of these exchanges to know that by the time she found him again later, he would probably be squirming with suppressed remorse.

She didn't mind, though. Not really. She knew the effect suicide had on him. She knew that this situation was particularly horrific, and she was unsurprised at how it was getting to him. But she wasn't going to attempt to deal with him when he was being like this. He would come to her when he was ready to ask for her help. She only regretted that she hadn't been there for him that morning.

Instead she focussed on her case, and tried to ignore Loker's bitter little contributions, eventually sending him off to assist Cal.

Later that evening she, for the first time, experienced the irritation towards Torres's disrespect for Cal's privacy that Cal so often felt. Torres was so far off base with her guessing. She had no idea, and Gillian was horrified at the thought that Torres might say the wrong thing to Cal. He was extremely sensitive about the whole thing, and the completely unjustified irrational guilt he felt about it could be easily triggered. She spoke very firmly when she told Torres to leave it alone, and stared at her warningly. She saw Torres's surprise at the intensity of her look, and hoped it was enough.

It was shortly after this that Emily came by her office.

"Emily, hi," said Gillian, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"Just bringing Dad some take-out," said Emily with a shrug.

"That's very thoughtful. And useful. I'm sure he hasn't eaten today."

Emily came to perch on the corner of the desk next to her seat, and looked a bit worried.

"Is he okay, Gill? He seems … upset."

Gillian smiled kindly at her.

"It's a stressful case," she said mildly.

"Yeah, I guess," said Emily, looking concerned. "But still, he's not himself. I mean, I don't think he's planning on coming home tonight."

"No, probably not," Gillian agreed.

"Does that mean you won't be there either?" asked Emily.

"Well-"

"Because I'd like you to come, you know, if you'd like. Maybe we could watch a movie or something?"

Gillian eyed her with affection. She had been planning on simply going home that night, but she could see that Emily was worried and didn't want to be home alone. She was hardly one to be able to say no to that girl.

"That sounds lovely," she said. "I'll be there."

Emily looked relieved.

"Okay, well I'll see you later then?"

"I shouldn't be more than an hour. I hope you got us some take-out, too."

"Of course I did," Emily grinned. "See you soon!"

Shortly after Emily left, Gillian decided to go and face Cal. She prayed that he had gotten over his mood by now. She wasn't entirely sure she could be as understanding if he went off at her again today.

She found him in his little library watching that infamous film. She had personally seen it so many times, she could play it to herself in her mind, see and hear every second at any time. She walked in, and sat on the arm of his seat as he glanced up to look at her.

There was an almost awkward pause, which she broke by saying, "Emily asked if I'd stay over at your place tonight. Is that all right?"

"Yeah, of course," he said quickly. "Thanks for doing that."

She gave a dismissive shrug and a gentle smile. He returned it hesitantly, looking apologetic, and that was more or less how they had always reconciled after one of these episodes. Relieved, they both returned their attention to the film.

"Em reckons I should open up to her," he said after a few moments.

Gillian draped an arm across his shoulders and laid her head on top of his.

"Oh yeah?"

There was a pause as they both stared at the agony flicker across the woman's face. So clear. So cruelly clear.

"Yeah. She's watching too much Oprah."

"You thinking of showing her?"

He heaved a sigh, and she waited, curious.

"You think I should?"

His voice was so quiet, so hesitant that she couldn't resist kissing the top of his head before murmuring, "If you want to, yes."

There was another silence as they watched the last few minutes before the reel ended. Then she whispered, "I'm off. See you tomorrow."

She stood up, and as he turned his head to gaze up at her, she ran her hand gently over his cheek.

"I know you won't, but try and get some sleep, okay?"

"Mm."

His face was vague, watching her the way he often did. With calm, affectionate interest.

She smiled, and turned to leave. Then she turned back as he said her name. She looked at his face, which was filled with far more intense regret than before, and shook her head quickly and dismissively. His face relaxed into a tiny gloomy smile, before he spoke, saying merely, "Come in early if you can. There're a couple of things I wanna run by you."

"Sure." She smiled. "Night, Cal."

x x x

By the time he had managed to solve the case (now with some much appreciated help from Gillian), Cal was exhausted. Dead on his feet. He knew it wasn't only from lack of sleep, but also the emotional tension that had gripped him for so long. The world seemed strangely off, as though he was accidently wandering on a different plane of existence.

It was at that point that Torres came into his office, and he felt something ... some strange impulse. His stomach felt oddly raw, and somewhere in his chest he felt an ache of sorts. He needed to confirm something that he knew would make him feel so much worse.

He led her into his library and asked if she had seen the agony on the film. That agony that he hadn't seen until it was far too late. She looked so bashful when she admitted she had that when she apologised, he felt oddly protective over her. He also felt a fuzzy sort of gratitude towards her for all her support in the case. The softened feelings towards her combined with his exhausted vulnerability, and he found himself allowing her to read him. Just a bit. Just enough to see what she could see. To allow her something … He didn't know what.

She gazed at him, transfixed, as she slowly, hesitantly, asked the questions while stepping closer to him. He gazed back, torn between his fascination in watching her abilities, and his terror that she would see everything. It was when she whispered, "Who was she?" that he knew it was far enough. Even in his strangely detached mind, this was too much. He gently laid his fingers on her chest, and pushed her away. The message clear. You are not authorised to be in this space.

Thus far, only Gillian was.

It was a gentle, sort of intimate encounter, though, and for the first time, Cal felt a sense of attachment to his protégée. It also made him realise that it was time. Time for Emily to be allowed inside as well.

x x x

Cal strode from his car to Gillian's door, and let himself in. It was after nine. She was sitting on her couch, her laptop open on the coffee table and some papers spread out around her. She looked up as he walked in.

"Cal!" she exclaimed, surprised.

"Hello, love," he said lightly.

"What're you doing here? I thought you had Em tonight?"

"I do, I just came to fetch you," he informed her, walking towards the couch and sitting down beside her.

"Did you show her?" she asked.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Bringing the talley up to two."

He didn't elaborate. She knew what he meant. Two people had seen the film, knowing it was his mother. Two people knew what it meant to him.

Gillian merely nodded, and didn't say anything. But her face told him that she was glad.

Then she said, "You should be asleep. It's been two days since you last slept ... Or changed clothing."

He rolled his eyes, and said, "I'll change and sleep when we get home, okay? Just grab your stuff, and let's go."

She watched him for a moment, and then asked, "Have you eaten?"

"Em was ordering Chinese as I was leaving."

He saw her eyes brighten, and grinned.

"Right, so now you have incentive."

"I didn't need incentive," she told him, smiling.

"Great," he said, slapping his knees and making to stand up.

"Uh, wait a second, Cal," she said, reaching to catch his arm. "I need to talk to you about something."

He settled back down, and said, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's about Loker."

She hesitated, and he stared at her. She was upset, and angry.

"What'd he do, then?"

"Well, on this SEC case ... Um, how much are you aware of?"

He frowned. He had been completely absorbed in the suicide case, and honestly hadn't even bothered to check in on what else was going on in the firm.

"Not much," he admitted. "Just what we knew when we got the case."

"Right, well we went to see Mr Hollin and ... Right from the beginning, Loker was taking it all very personally, and he was really angry. Hostile. He kept saying that people like that should be punished. Anyway, we realised Mr Hollin might be protecting his daughter after we spoke to her, and we went back to see him today."

Here she paused and bit her lip slightly. Then she continued.

"He confirmed that he was taking the fall for her after some cohersion ... I - I had to send Loker away, he was being so ... Antagonistic. Then Mr Hollin said that if we allowed him to take the blame, he would get his daughter to return every cent she stole."

Cal was listening with interest. He knew already what she had decided, and he could tell she was unsure that he would approve. Funnily enough, he wholeheartedly agreed with her, even though it theoretically went against his obsession with the truth. Sometimes a lie was necessary. Either way, it had been her call; it was her case, and he hadn't exactly been available for consultation.

"So you told him you'd take the deal," he said, as though it was the obvious choice.

She looked directly into his eyes now, and nodded seriously. He nodded back, indicating for her to continue.

"Loker was very against it," she said quietly. "He kept telling me that people like that should pay, that we have to send a message."

"So you reminded him that he works for you?" asked Cal, feeling irritated.

She smiled, and said, "More or less. But then later today I called the SEC to tell them that Mr Hollin was going to confess and return all the money, and they told me that his daughter had been arrested."

Cal frowned, feeling an instant flash of anger.

"So Loker tipped them off?" he asked her.

She nodded slowly, before saying, "I'm pretty sure. I mean, they wouldn't tell me how they knew about the daughter, and the timing was just ..."

He nodded, clenching his teeth.

"Did you ask him if he'd done it?"

"Yeah, he deflected for a while, and then said he didn't."

She paused, and looked uncomfortable, before saying, "I didn't actually see any clear signs of lying, Cal. But I ... I know he was. Something was off ... in his voice, maybe? I'm not sure. I just couldn't be completely objective, so I'm not sure how I know ..."

She looked almost as though she was apologising.

"If you say he was lying, he was lying," Cal told her with quiet confidence. He had absolutely no doubt that she was right.

"But I couldn't call him on it."

Cal frowned, thinking about how bad Loker usually was at lying, and then asked, "Did you see anything on his face at all? Any kind of tension, or anger perhaps, at being accused?"

She looked thoughtful, and then said, "Not really. I mean, he was very obviously angry at first, but there was no leakage later in the conversation."

Cal rolled his eyes, and said, "He probably took something."

She let out a sigh of comprehension, and muttered, "That's probably it."

Cal was furious. The bloody nerve of him. Disrespecting Gillian and the firm like that was unforgiveable. It was the one thing he demanded from all his employees. Loyalty.

Gillian interrupted his seething by saying, "Maybe you could take a look at the surveillance tapes, and see for yourself?"

He looked at her, and said distractedly, "Yeah, sure, if you like," before saying darkly, "I imagine Mr Hollin didn't take it well."

He knew the answer by the sad resignation on her face that flickered into anger.

"He's not giving any of it back."

Cal stood up, and began to pace furiously in front of her. His lack of sleep gave him a much shorter fuse than usual, and he was livid.

"I'm firing him. Tomorrow. I won't have it, you know. He should've bloody well respected your decision, he should have been loyal to the Group. I'll fire his ass for this!"

"Look," she interrupted as he paused in his rant to take a breath, "before we go in guns blazing, I'd really like you to check the surveillance tapes, just in case."

He looked at her. He didn't for a moment think it was necessary, but he supposed it may help in finding _proof_ that Loker was a lying sod before they fired him. And he told her that.

She shrugged, nodded and sighed.

"He won't get away with this," Cal told her fiercely.

"He didn't actually do anything wrong, Cal. _I_ was breaking the law."

"Not the point," snapped Cal dismissively. "He was disloyal and disrespectful to you. That's enough."

She suddenly smiled and observed, "Not a good day all round, then."

He nodded gloomily, and then grunted, "C'mon, let's go. Food's probably there by now."

"Right," she said, leaning forward to switch off her laptop and gather together her papers.

"You should really have just gone straight to my place," he told her. "Would've saved time."

"Hm, wasn't sure if you wanted company tonight," she said vaguely, sliding her things into her laptop case. "Especially since you wanted to show Em the film."

"Please, darling, you're always welcome. Mi casa e su casa, and all that."

He meant it too. She was part of his home, and his family. She could have been in the room with him and Emily, and he wouldn't have cared (although he knew she would never have intruded). Sometimes he wished she would just move in and get it over with, but they had both agreed to put off any major commitment for a couple of years. They had gotten together fairly soon after the near simultaneous dissipation of their marriages, and they were both wary of falling into the trap of the rebound.

He saw in the smile she gave him right then that she had an idea of what he was thinking, and she said, "Back at you. By the way, did you do the laundry?"

"Uh, no," he said, taken aback.

She sighed, and said, "All right, I'll have to pack something. Be right back."

Oh, that's right, he thought as she vanished into her bedroom. She had run out of clean clothes at his place.

"Gill?" he called to her.

"Yeah?"

He hesitated, and then said, "Thank you."

"For?"

"Mothering the hell out of me."

There was a silence from the bedroom, and just as he wondered if that had been the wrong way to thank her for caring, he heard her call out with laughter in her voice, "Not the sexiest thing you could've said, but any time."

He smirked. He did love that woman. Suddenly he couldn't take the distance, and he strode into the room after her. She was busy rooting through her closet, and didn't realise he was there until he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

She started, but laughed and said, "Oh, hello."

"Hi there," he mumbled, his lips on her neck.

"Come to help me pack?"

"Or hinder," he grunted, finding an earlobe.

She turned in his arms and smiled at him, before giving him a warm, deep kiss that he enjoyed with passion, because he had missed this. He debated apologising again, or apologising properly. He knew he didn't need to, that she had taken his attitude for exactly what it was and that she had let it go, but it felt different now. Almost as though he owed her something more now that he had lashed out when they were in a relationship.

"I'm-"

But she cut him off, obviously aware of what he was thinking.

"It's past, don't worry about it."

"You didn't deserve that," he said anyway.

She chuckled, and said, "No, I most certainly didn't. But I never have, and yet I've taken it enough times, haven't I? I must be okay with that little side of you."

"The unpleasant side?"

"We all have them."

"You don't."

She scoffed, and gave his cheek a quick pinch as she said, "Knock it off. You don't need to charm me. Or apologise any more than you have."

Deciding to let it go, he said instead, "Well, I love you then."

"Well, good, because I love you."

"Convenient."

"Lucky."

He wasn't sure how it had happened but they were suddenly on her bed, kissing like teenagers and removing clothes.

The chinese food would just have to be microwaved.

x x x

**A/N: **Hope I did this one justice, it being quite an intense episode and all. Let me know what you think!


	9. 109 Life is Priceless

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

x x x

**Chapter 9: Life is Priceless**

The news of the explosion came to him over the radio as he was driving home. There had been a blast at a construction site out in Frostburg over twelve hours ago. Cause unknown. Number of casualties yet to be confirmed. At least thirteen men unaccounted for. Cal hadn't heard a thing about it, but he had been very busy that day, and hadn't found a moment to turn on the news. He turned up the volume, but the report was short, probably for lack of further information.

When he got home, he stepped out into the darkness and quickly made his way inside to escape the light drizzle. It was after six. Gillian still hadn't managed to escape the office, and seemed unoptimistic about getting out of there before nine. However, she had banished Cal home to rest. It had been a long day, and Cal was looking forward to a quiet evening of alcohol, leftovers and, when Gillian returned, sex.

Unfortunately, he had barely reached his kitchen when he made the mistake of answering his cell phone. The agent on the other end apologised for calling his cell and informed him that FEMA needed his assistance right away.

"Let me guess. Explosion out in Frostburg."

"That's right, Dr Lightman. Please, we have three men missing and we've been unable to locate them."

Well, that was better than thirteen. News broadcasts were behind. Or maybe they just liked using the number thirteen; it had an ominous ring to it.

He yawned, thought about the long drive to Frostburg and said, "I'm not sure what I can do about that."

"We've been following the information of one of the workers, but we haven't been able to locate the men where he said they were right before the blast."

Cal considered this.

"We also need to determine how this happened. At this point we have no idea how such an explosion could have occurred. There was no known hazard on site that could have caused this accidentally."

Well, that was interesting. He felt the reluctant twitches of interest stirring inside. Still, it was a long way to drive and he was exhausted.

"We'll send you a car. It can be there in ten minutes."

Cal sighed, and gave in.

"All right."

He would overcharge these guys like they had never been overcharged before.

After the agent hung up, Cal replaced what was going to be some scotch with a cup of coffee. It was going to be a long night. He put in a fair amount of milk so that he could gulp it down quickly, and called Gillian's cell. She didn't answer, so he left a message, briefly summarising what had happened, and adding that he was headed out there.

"Join me when you can," he finished. He didn't really want to tackle this one without her, even though he knew she had also had an extremely long and busy day.

He heard a car hooting, and, sighing, headed outside into the darkness.

x x x

Gillian was unprepared for the chaos, and she stood frozen, and stared around her while she waited.

After receiving Cal's message shortly after nine (she had left her cell in her office as she worked in the lab) she had tried calling him back, but he hadn't answered either. So she called FEMA, and after some transfers, had eventually spoken to someone on site who confirmed that Cal was there. She asked him to tell Cal that she was on her way.

She arrived shortly before midnight, and informed one of the rescue team who she was. He asked her to wait, and went in search of the people who needed her. And she became caught up in the panic and the activity.

"Dr Foster?" The voice seemed very far away, and she only reacted when it spoke her name again.

"Yes," she said as she turned around to find a different man standing there.

"Dr Lightman is waiting for you," he informed her. "Come this way."

She followed him through crowds of observers, past fire engines and medic tents, around rescue operations and search teams into a large tent that had been set up to the periphery of the chaos. Inside were groups of men bending over plans, staring at diagrams, crowding around monitors and arguing loudly.

Her eyes searched for Cal, and they landed on him after he had already started towards her.

"Hey," she said when he reached her.

"Thanks for coming," he said, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

"It's crazy," she whispered.

"Yeah."

There was a moment as they shared in that sentiment before an agent appeared in front of them. Cal introduced her, and the agent seemed relieved as he said, "Good, so you can talk to Mr Spaley now."

Cal nodded, and summed up the situation around the three missing men as they were led out to a different tent. She was already exhausted.

x x x

After ascertaining that Mr Spaley had lied, and that the three missing men were in fact in an entirely different section, the hours crawled by while the rescue team reevaluated their action plan. To fill the time, Cal and Gillian spoke to the head of the construction company, the head engineer, the mayor and anybody else who may have some idea about how the explosion had happened. This didn't last very long, though, and they found that they were also stuck in the helpless phase of waiting around.

They walked around the site, watching the activity and sipping bad coffee out of styrofoam cups. By four thirty, they were perched on a large cement block, huddled close together and playing "I Spy" just to keep their minds occupied.

"Hammer."

"No."

"Hat."

"No."

"Helmet."

"No."

"Hhhh ... Hydrogen."

"How can you _spy_ hydrogen, Cal?"

"I agree, that would've been a very unfair play on your part."

"Well, no."

Cal could usually beat the shit out of anyone at this game, because invariably their eyes would wander over to what they were "spying", and as soon as that happened, he would know. Gillian knew how to counter that, though, so it was far more challenging.

"Um ... Hedge."

"No."

"Hedge_hog_."

"Where?"

"I don't know, you saw it."

"This is getting silly."

"Hamburger."

"I wish."

"Helen Hunt."

"_You_ wish."

"I really do."

"Watch yourself."

All in all, by the time the morning had dawned and they had spoken to Jared Blunt, the thought of doing some role-playing in front of his wife seemed suddenly wildly appealing.

It _was_ fun, too. Cal got be as antagonising as he ever wanted, and Gillian got to slap him.

"You almost didn't sell it," teased Gillian as they strolled across the site after the encounter. "I'm gonna have to hit you harder next time."

"Yeah, you took a little too much pleasure in that one," grunted Cal.

Gillian smirked and pointed out, "You remember that next time you feel the need to fantasise about Helen Hunt in front of me."

"Oh yeah?"

She chuckled, and squeezed his arm.

"Valerie Blunt was disgusted when you slapped me, but she wasn't afraid," Cal observed, returning to business.

"Yeah, she showed no heightened sensitivity to violence between a man and a woman," agreed Gillian. "I – I think it was unlikely she was abused."

"So, you don't think her husband could have blown up the building?" Cal asked her.

"With no violence at home? It's hard to believe."

Cal nodded, and scrapped the idea. As Gillian spoke briefly to Loker on the phone, he wondered who else would have voluntarily have blown up the site. He then wondered if it hadn't been an accident after all.

Gillian hung up her call.

"What was that? A job?" he asked vaguely. He was watching Mrs Blunt talking to the head of Green City Construction.

"Yeah," she said, and he was suspicious when she didn't elaborate.

"Wanna tell me what it is?" he asked, looking in her direction now.

"I don't need your permission to take on a case," she said mildly.

Huh. Evasive.

"Well, that depends on the case, doesn't it, really?" he muttered pointedly, feeling slightly irritated. This was obviously something he wouldn't approve of.

"It'll be fine, I promise."

"That usually means I'm getting screwed," Cal sighed, disgruntled, but reluctantly decided to take her word for it. For now.

"Usually," she agreed, smiling. "But if you like, I can make that a literal outcome for you?"

Now that was distracting. His irritation vanished instantly.

"Sexual bribery. I like it. Now?"

She laughed cheerfully, laying her hand at his elbow.

They both turned their gazes to Valerie Blunt.

"Isn't that the head of Green City Construction, Warren, with Mrs Blunt?" asked Gillian, sounding deeply surprised.

Cal, who had been watching them for some time, nodded and relayed his observations. "Less than a foot and a half between them. Flash glance from her, before a quick turn away."

"They've been intimate before," said Gillian, still surprised.

This, of course, opened up a whole new set of options. What if Warren had blown up the building to get rid of Jared Blunt? They spent the rest of the day disproving that theory, establishing that Jared Blunt had late stage MS and dropped the drill, and that the city engineer knew something else.

By the time night fell once more, they were both dead on their feet, and no longer in the mood to be patient. After some inappropriate flirting when they donned their hard hats, they cornered the city engineer and discovered that someone might have been trying to hide the presence of methane. That raised their adrenaline levels.

Things got worse when the head FEMA agent refused to listen to them when they warned him that drilling may cause it to ignite. Then, just to be contrary, the moron instructed the workers to speed up the drill. Cal, Gillian and the head engineer rushed into the tent that contained all the video equipment to warn the three men.

Seeing the three of them seemed to trigger something in the engineer, and he said helplessly, "If the drills hit that methane ..."

They both heard the fear in his voice.

"We've gotta to stop the drilling," muttered Gillian.

Cal heard the fear in her voice now, and without hesitation turned around at once and ran outside.

x x x

She could hear him yelling for them to stop.

Then the site exploded.

She thought her heart might actually have stopped when she heard and felt the explosion. The noise seemed to go on forever, even though it was only a few seconds before it was over, and then her whole body went limp with shock. As soon as her muscles would listen to her again, she stumbled out of the tent, and almost collapsed in relief when she saw that Cal hadn't been too close. He was standing and gazing at the building that was now engulfed in flame and smoke. He appeared to be frozen.

She half ran forwards, the intense heat washing over her, and when she reached him, she gripped his arm tightly with both her hands as she also stared, transfixed at the choas. It took a moment for him to react to her presence, but when he did, he pulled his arm free from her vice like grip, and put it around her shoulders so that he could clasp her tightly against his side.

Neither could tear their eyes away from the bright orange flames.

x x x

It was bad. All round bad. Rescuers were injured or dead. Other workers were injured or dead. The three trapped men were injured or dead. Cal and Gillian were standing nearby as the two survivors were helped out, and they witnessed the tragedy of one of these men having to tell Mrs Blunt that her husband had died. Died to put his coworkers first.

Cal winced as Mrs Blunt's face crumpled. He felt Gillian's hand find his, and he grasped it tightly. They were both shaken up, and Cal felt acutely aware that either one of them, or even both, might have been killed back there.

He was exhausted. He had last woken up the previous morning, and the after-effects of the adrenaline rush were hitting him.

"FBI's here," he heard Gillian say quietly. "What do you want to do?"

He thought for a moment, and then said, "You talk, I'll watch, okay?"

"Okay."

That was it. No questions, no clarification needed.

As they walked to meet the FBI, their hands still absently clutching at each other, Cal thought about how much he had missed this. Working with her, her companionship and their tag-teaming. That had always been the best part of working with Gillian. He never had to explain anything, and she never questioned him. They knew their strategies, they could communicate with a look and they relied on each other. He trusted her input as she trusted his, and together they always managed to pull things together.

They approached the head FBI agent, who was also being pointed in their direction, and it was only when his eyes flicked down to their joined hands that they simultaneously let go. He didn't know that they had ever discussed it, but they rarely gave much indication when working a case that they were romantically involved.

They managed to effectively publically nail the mayor as the culprit, and after that there was little left to do, really. It was approaching nine, and Cal felt dizzy with exhaustion. Gillian, who had driven to Frostburg in her own car, drove them back. Reluctantly, they decided to stop by the office before heading home.

Well, Gillian decided.

Cal grumbled.

x x x

Gillian had no intention of hanging around the office too long. She addressed the one or two things that couldn't wait (mainly because she had no intention of coming through the following day), and then, seizing a bottle of scotch, headed to Cal's office where she knew he would be waiting. It was raining outside again, and the sound of it was soothing after the endless noise of the last twenty four hours.

She walked in and laughed when she saw him lazing back in his desk chair, his feet on the desk and several minibar sized liquor bottles in front of him. He gulped one down as she watched, and then looked blearily up at her.

"Hey," she grinned and, holding up her bottle, added, "I thought you could use a real drink."

"And a bath," he said, watching her pointedly.

"Hm, well, I'll see what I can do about that later."

He gave her a small smile, and perched his head on his hand as he continued to gaze at her. She cleared the tiny bottles from his desk, and poured some from the large bottle into two glasses.

Why do people always think they're the only one with a secret?" she asked in frustration.

"Human nature, I suppose," he said, taking the glass she handed to him.

She took her own glass, and sat down with a heavy sigh. She was feeling gloomy again, and she was sure the exhaustion didn't help. Funny how now that she could go to sleep, she suddenly didn't want to just yet. She could see by the look in Cal's eyes as he watched her that he was feeling equally defeated by the day. It had all just been so unnecessary.

"If the mayor had told the truth, or Blunt had been honest about his illness …," she faltered, hating the what-ifs, but unable to let them go, "None of this would have happened. If the lies … hadn't come together."

Cruel twist of fate.

After a gentle pause, Cal merely murmured, "They always do."

They sipped in silence for a few more minutes, Gillian gazing out into the rain, and Cal gazing at her. His eyes hadn't left her face since she had entered his office.

She could often marvel at his ability to just stare. Stare at her without glancing away for the longest time. He had always done that. Since she had known him, he had been able to stare. And it had rarely made her feel uncomfortable. He always seemed to be merely observing her, and although she had never quite understood his fascination, she had recognised it as part of who he was. He observed. As he was doing now. Watching her face with that affectionate tiny smile, his eyes deep and tender, content in her company.

She was so tired.

She took the last gulp, and stood up. She walked part of the way around the desk, and held her hand out for him.

"Let's go, get to bed."

"You gonna bath me?"

She smiled suddenly, and asked in affectionate exasperation, "How can you _possibly_ have the energy?"

"I always have the energy," he grunted as he swung his legs to the floor, took her hand, and stood up. He used his momentum to propel himself against her, and he smirked into her face. "Besides, you owe me a screw."

She couldn't help giggling, really, because he had always had the ability to make her laugh, and then she said, still smiling at him, "All right, bath first then."

She hoped they wouldn't fall asleep and drown in there.

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** Thanks for reading :-)


	10. Flashback

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**A/N:** Okay, slight deviation in that this whole chapter is one giant flashback. It's kinda necessary before episode 1x10, because that's where Zoe shows up, and a bit of history will be needed there. I was originally going to do alternate flashback scenes like before, but it was just too long and not working. Episode 1x10 will follow shortly. So, hope you enjoy this :-)

(Also, beware some swearing)

x x x

**Chapter 10: Flashback**

Cal was in deep trouble, and he was slowly beginning to realise it.

Although he was doing an admittedly excellent job of suppressing and denying his feelings.

Since Gillian had left Alec, things between them had begun to change. Her barriers had been let down a little, and he, Cal, was now her primary confidante and source of comfort, a role he took up with enthusiasm. She hadn't exactly taken to discussing all her feelings with him, but she seemed more open to his perceptive skills. In addition, she had far more free time, so he took advantage of her company more than before.

He helped her go hunting for a new place to live. He helped her move once she had signed the lease. He helped her unpack when she got there. He helped her shop for necessary furniture and appliances, and then helped assemble them (or hook them up in the case of the TV). He took her out for dinners, and joined her for walks, and made her laugh again, which made him laugh again. He ignored the fact that he had a wife at home.

At first, she had asked him several times if he shouldn't be with Zoe, but he waved her off, stating that Zoe understood. Something which, to her credit, had been true for a couple of weeks. But as time passed, she became less and less understanding. Cal, however, continued to tell himself (and his wife) that this was temporary, that he had to be there for his best friend right now, that he was doing absolutely nothing wrong.

And he was enjoying himself more than he had in what felt like a very long time. That part he didn't tell himself, much less Zoe.

They fought about it though. More and more. It wasn't as though the arguments themselves got more frequent - they had already been frequent enough. It was just that this gave them a new dimension. Something more tangible that could be thrown in at any moment to give him a disadvantage. Zoe almost seemed to relish the new ammunition, and Cal was just as determined not to be intimidated by it.

At some point, just over a month after she had left Alec, it started to become clear that Gillian was holding up much better, and that he really didn't need to be there for her so extensively anymore. Shortly thereafter, he and Zoe had a particularly bitter fight during which she accused him of forgetting about his family. Suitably guilted, he dutifully pulled back, but he was beginning to miss Gillian's easy company. It didn't help that by this time, on every return home he would be attacked by Zoe in some form. Sometimes it was the full frontal assault, sometimes passive aggression, sometimes sneering comments all evening, sometimes the silent treatment ...

He went home for Emily, but Emily was almost fourteen now, and in her I'm-In-My-Room-Until-Further-Notice phase for most evenings. She was usually in some kind of fight with her mother anyway, which meant that any attempt to extricate her from her room was utterly fruitless.

He had his bonding time with her when he drove her to school in the mornings. She would fill him in on school, scoff about her mother and often ask about Gillian. It was on a Monday morning during one of these conversations that Cal first got an inkling of what was going on inside himself.

"How's Gillian doing?" she asked, looking up from her cell phone.

"She's good," he responded with a half-smile.

"You weren't with her last night."

"Nah."

"When was the last time?"

He glanced at her face, looking at him with curiosity ... Invested curiosity.

"Why?" he asked, puzzled.

"Well, you're usually happier once you've been with her," she shrugged, turning back to her phone.

Cal scowled, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

"I'm happy."

Emily rolled her eyes, and glanced at him long enough to say, "I just said you were _happier_."

"I see her every day," he pointed out defensively. "So there's no change or anything."

"Not on weekends," Emily said vaguely, absorbed in typing a text message.

Cal didn't respond to that, because there was nothing to say. After a pause, Emily finished with her text and looked up at him again, saying earnestly, "It's good Gillian makes you happy, Dad."

Before he managed to respond, her cell rang and she answered it, remaining absorbed in the call until they arrived at school.

"I am happy," he murmured firmly as she got out. She didn't hear him, and merely waved before merging into the throng of students. Cal sat in the car until someone hooted politely behind him, and he quickly pulled out of the drop-off zone.

He decided to pretend that that conversation hadn't just happened.

x x x

"How's the divorce going?"

Gillian looked up from her desk and smiled at him. While Cal had been a near constant companion for the first month or so after she and Alec had split up, they had not actually seen each other near as much over the past few weeks. In addition to the fact that they had been very busy at work, Cal had alluded to the fact that Zoe had finally lost patience with him.

Gillian was surprised it had taken so long, and had a sneaky suspicion that Cal had been underplaying Zoe's reaction for quite some time. Silly man. She remembered a particularly uncomfortable moment where Zoe had come by the office just as she and Cal had been heading out for lunch. Zoe had eyed Gillian with a very pronounced sneer, and virtually forced Cal to have lunch with her instead. Not that Gillian had minded much at all, but by the time Cal had returned, she could see that he had been broken down just a little bit more by his wife.

It was Gillian's main issue with Zoe. They had never gotten along very well, and she had had to endure many snide exchanges with her partner's wife, but it was the way she hurt Cal that Gillian hated so much. If she was unhappy, talk to him, find a therapist, and if that didn't work, leave ... There was no need to spend her time trying to break him down. It was classic defensive insecure behaviour, but that would never make it okay in Gillian's book. Nobody had the right to treat her best friend that way. Nobody.

Not even if _he_ wasn't helping the situation much either. His attention to Gillian recently, while an amazing display of friendship, was stupid in terms of his marriage. Although she wasn't going to deny how much she had appreciated his friendship.

He had helped her not to feel alone.

"Should be finalised soon," she told him mildly. She watched him study her, and after barely a moment, decided to let him read her relief, which he did.

"Well, let me know," he said with a smirk. "We can go out to celebrate."

His eyes were warm and twinkling, and she laughed in spite of herself.

"Definitely."

It was amazing what being away from Alec did for her. It made her remember how it felt to be free. To be calm. It was only now that she could see how unhappy she had been over the past few years. After living that way for long enough, you forget that that isn't normal. You forget that you can be happy.

This was like that proverbial breath of fresh air, and it was wonderful.

x x x

Zoe announced that she was being asked to work a case in New York, and would be gone for a month at least. She and Cal spent the night before she left having a lot of sex, and not speaking much. By the time she left at six the following morning, they were in an argument again - something about him not liking subways? It was difficult to pinpoint where it had started.

The last words she said before she stalked out of their front door was, "Well, I'm sure you'll have a blast without me," in that sneering tone of hers. "My love to Gillian," and he bristled at the door once it had slammed shut. He wasn't even sure where the reference to Gillian had come from. He was so tired of it.

"She's such a bitch sometimes," came a voice from behind him.

"Oi," he snapped, rounding on his daughter and scowling at her. "Watch your mouth!"

She was obviously not in a good place hormonally, because she rolled her eyes at him again, scowled and said irritably, "Well, you were thinking it," before turning her back on him and stalking back upstairs.

"I wasn't!" Cal called after her, even though that had been word-for-word his thoughts.

Decidedly not the point.

He hoped Emily would outgrow her hormones soon, because he missed his cheery, wise little girl, flashes of whom still showed up, although not nearly often enough.

On the other hand, it occurred to him that his and Zoe's fights were probably not helping. He tried to remember the last time they had gone twenty four hours without antagonism, and couldn't. He was exhausted and miserable, and he wondered when they _had_ stopped being happy.

x x x

Cal took advantage of Zoe's absence and wasn't even subtle about it. Gillian was over at his house for dinner more often than not, much to Emily's delight. What made Cal feel a lot worse than he should have been feeling was when he lied to Zoe about it over the phone, underreporting the visits and relying on Emily's near constant arguments with her mother not to give him away.

The moment it hit him exactly how much shit he was in was when Gillian was sitting on his sofa between him and Emily, watching something on TV and laughing. That was it. Watching something silly and giggling happily at it, and looking so unreserved and beautiful that he wanted to lunge over and kiss her. The feeling was so overpowering that for a moment he merely sat there in shock.

Then he started to his feet and practically bolted from the room. Because he would have done it. Had his daughter not, by some lucky miracle, been sitting right there, he would have kissed her, and he knew it. The suddenness of the impulse startled him, and he wondered where in the hell it had come from. All he knew was that he had been feeling warmer and more relaxed than he could remember feeling for a long time, and he had turned to look at his daughter and best friend with affection and then ...

He would have done it. No doubt.

This was beyond the usual harmless attraction he indulged himself in when looking at Gillian.

This was serious.

x x x

Gillian's divorce was finalised. Three months after she and Alec had split up, and it was official. She found Cal in his office, and felt confused rushes of emotion well around inside her. She was relieved, a little bit stunned, still grieving for Sophie, happy, afraid ...

"It's official," she told him, and he glanced up at her, looking confused for a moment when she didn't elaborate. Then he strode over and gave her a hug.

It was a comforting hug, and he murmured, "You all right, love?"

She shook her head, gave a nervous giggle, and then nodded. She didn't really know. Then she realised there were tears in her eyes, and when he noticed them, she said quickly, "I am all right. This is good. It's just ... He's not my husband anymore."

"Yeah."

"It's fine. It's just ... Hitting me, that's all."

A whole portion of her life. A portion that was supposed to last forever. Over. Gone. It was disheartening, to say the least.

"Right," he whispered, his hand warm on her elbow.

"Anyway," she said, attempting to be bright, "celebratory dinner on me?"

Because no matter what, she was determined to celebrate.

x x x

A couple of weeks after that, and Cal was happy.

Happy and in deep, deep trouble, because he had found himself becoming addicted to her. Her company, her smile, her eyes, her laughter ... Everything. And he had to actively enforce his denial now. It didn't matter, he told himself over and over again. It would pass. It was just a phase. Indulge in it, even enjoy it a little while it lasts. It's not like anything would happen. He could resist her. He _would_ resist her.

The now more frequent rushes of desire had no bearing on the matter. Absolutely none.

He walked through his front door late one night, and Zoe was there in the kitchen. There in their home, when she should have been in New York.

"Zoe!" he exclaimed, happy to see her, but she didn't smile.

"Have fun on your date?" she asked coldly.

Damn, he thought, his small rush of joy fading quickly. Because he and Gillian had had dinner, and of course Zoe would come home early, and Emily would tell her the truth because she didn't know not to. She _should_ tell the truth.

"We just grabbed a bite, Zo," he said, moving in to kiss her cheek. She dodged him, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"And all the other nights she's been here, Cal?"

Oh.

Of course the next step would be to grill Emily. He faltered, and felt like he should just go straight to hell right now. Just pack up and leave. Why put it off?

"I didn't want you to get-"

"Upset? Well, then I suppose no-one knows better than you how lying helps with that kind of thing."

She was sneering, but he could see her pain, and he was feeling sick.

"I'm sorry."

He meant it, too. He really meant it.

Zoe, however, clearly didn't buy it, and she asked him, "You mean sorry that I came home and ruined your fun, Cal? Or sorry that you're such an asshole?"

"The second one."

"Well, great, I'll tell that to our daughter when she finds out what a cheating bastard you are."

For a moment, Cal nearly attacked. He nearly went for everything she ever did to him. He nearly told her to go to hell. Instead he turned on his heel and stormed out.

x x x

He was standing in their front yard, glaring at the stars, and feeling shit. He wasn't aware that she had come out to join him until she spoke.

"Are you in love with her?"

Zoe's question caught him off guard, mainly because such a direct approach wasn't usually her style. And as such, he was at a loss as to how to respond.

"I'm … She's my friend, Zo."

"Yes, I'm aware of the concept, thanks. But are you in love with her, Cal?"

He felt horribly defensive, and he made it far too obvious when he said, "Nothing's happened."

She stared at him with those eyes. Those fierce hard brown eyes that had such power to begin with, power that he had just fed with his words, his guilt. The eyes that at this moment told him that she knew the truth, and she was just daring him to deny it. Daring him to lie. She would rip him apart if he did. But she would rip him apart if he didn't, too. So he said nothing, and they looked at each other for a long time.

At long last she spoke, saying bitterly, "I always knew this would happen."

"Zoe …"

"You didn't even try to stop it."

He couldn't say a word here. He was frightened of where she was going with this, and didn't want to say anything to encourage her. She didn't need him to.

"You allowed it to grow, always letting her in, always choosing her. You didn't try and avoid temptation. You fed it, hoping for your opportunity. And now it's here, she's divorced, and you can get in there and take it. At long last."

The injustice of her words struck him. But they nontheless hit the spot, and he felt flooded with guilt. He felt sick.

"It's not like that-"

"Oh, no?"

Her voice was like ice. Or icicles, sharp and stabbing, piercing his very soul. His barriers shot up at once, and his voice became hard, strong.

"No, Zoe. You're my family. Whatever I'm feeling, I choose you."

He was fighting harder than he ever had to keep calm, to keep collected. By now he had usually blown his top at her, but this was too dangerous. He couldn't risk the words that would come in a screaming match. He couldn't risk his family.

She, however, gave him a look of deep disdain and sneered, "For God's sake, Cal. I don't need to be your runner up, just because I signed a piece of paper fourteen years ago."

"You're not-"

"You've made it clear to me that I am. For years. Don't insult me, Cal. You choose your family for Emily, not for me. You want _Gillian_ and as far as I'm concerned, you can fucking well go to her."

He was at a loss for words.

"I can take it, believe me. It'll be better than the pretending I've had to do over the past five years. Make your choice, Cal. Don't be such a coward."

She turned, and swept back into their home, and he could do nothing but stare after her as the world span off its axis and all his bearings veered into nothing.

x x x

Zoe was crying.

Cal couldn't remember the last time he had seen her cry, although he thought it may have been during hormone surges while she was pregnant with Emily.

But right now she was sitting on their bed, her head in her hands, and crying.

"What can I do?" he asked desperately.

"Fuck you, Cal."

"Come on, Zoe," he begged. "Don't just give up on me, for God's sake! Just tell me how I can prove it to you. Tell me how I can prove I love you."

She looked directly at him now, her eyes a bit red but fierce again, and he wondered how she had managed to stop crying so quickly.

"Choose me."

"I do," he insisted.

"No, really choose me."

"I ... What do you mean?" he asked warily, as she got to her feet and glared challengingly into his eyes.

"Stop seeing Gillian."

He froze at that. Her eyes were locked on his, and he could see her pain, her desperation, her anger ...

"I'm not sure I-"

"I want her out of your life."

Her voice was firm, cold, her eyes boring into his. He felt his heart jump.

"That's impossible, Zoe!" he said, disbelief filling him.

"No, it isn't."

"We own a bloody business together, don't we?"

"We'll buy her out."

He was stunned. He could see that she not only meant it, but didn't for a second believe he would follow through with it. She was forcing him to say it.

"So the only way you'll stay with me is if I cut my business partner and best friend out of my life?" he demanded, horrified. "Are you bloody serious?"

"Yes."

The sudden anger and stubborness washed over him, and he felt slightly lightheaded as he spoke coldly.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I won't do it."

"Well, then you've made your choice, Cal, because you're either cutting her or me out of your life."

That put things into rather harsh perspective. But it also simplified things in its own cruel way, because he absolutely could not, even for a moment, envision his life without Gillian. He needed her. In love with her or not, he needed her. What he didn't need was this. Fights. Strain. Pain. Guilt. He didn't need the relationship his marriage had become, and frankly, Zoe didn't either. More importantly, Emily didn't need this.

When he spoke again, his voice stuck in his throat, and came out slightly choked and in a half whisper.

"Well then ... I suppose I have."

x x x

Going to Gillian seemed like the wrong thing to do. The worst thing to do, really. But where else could he go? She was his best friend. He absolutely needed his best friend right now.

So he found himself knocking on her door. When she opened it, in her pyjamas and looking sleepy, he realised exactly how much of a mistake it had been to come here. She stood there, surprise on her face, but also that warm loving expression that was sort of her default with him. Those soft clear eyes. It was such a contrast to Zoe that his initial impulse was to grab her and kiss her. Then the sickening guilt sucker punched him, and he felt almost light headed.

"Cal?" she was saying, and he had a feeling she had said it more than once. She was looking at him in concern now, warm loving concern, and his head began to spin, and he wished she would just look _away_ and then that he was somewhere else. He turned away, and began to walk as fast as possible in a different direction. She was calling after him, and he wanted to turn back, but his guilt gripped his soul and he didn't dare.

Then he felt warm hands grabbing at his upper arm, and she was slowing him down and turning him towards her, and she was flushed from running to catch up, and then he looked away from those Gillian Foster eyes to the ground and saw that she was in socks, no shoes, and he wondered if Zoe would ever run after him in socks, no shoes. And then he wondered if she'd ever run after him at all unless it was to try and get in that last word. And so he collapsed into Gillian's arms and gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to breathe in her scent, no longer sure where the line between moral and immoral lay.

Her voice was soft and soothing, and he hadn't a clue what she was saying, but it made him feel calm. Calm, then sick with guilt again when he realised that it was _her_ calming him, and then he pulled away and swore, and ran his hands into his hair to grip it, and when he finally looked at Gillian again, she was wide-eyed with shock and worry, a hand still on one of his arms. He felt confused emotions shoot through him again, gratitude, pain, love, guilt, and he didn't know what the hell else, and he thought that this right here was why falling in love with your best friend was a bad idea, because who could he go to now?

She was looking at him with increasing concern, and he supposed he should say _something _because he had come here and woken her up and was acting like a complete loon, and she had, after all, told him about Alec. Not immediately, sure, but if she had shown up at his house in the state he was currently in, he would have been frightened, and he could see that she was feeling that now.

But what could he say? I've fallen in love with you, Gillian, and my wife called me on it today, and she's going to leave, because I can't not love you, and just plain dedication isn't enough for her, because I'll be busy being in love with you, and I'm not going to cut you out of my life, so maybe she's right and I did choose you, and I've lost my family, and she's going to take my Emily with her, and I have no idea what I want from you at all, because Christ knows your divorce was barely finalised a week ago, and I'm in _love_ with you, and heartbroken that my wife has left me, and help me, dear God, help me. It seemed a bit much.

He realised faintly that he had been staring at her while this had been flying through his mind, and he doubted he had had his mask activated, and he wondered what she had seen, because now she was looking at him as though she could feel his pain, and felt utterly helpless as to what to do about it. Maybe she had caught that last plea.

She made a move towards him, probably to embrace him, but he stumbled backwards to avoid it, his heart pounding. Then he saw her confusion, and his guilt got worse, and he actually retched.

She started at that, and said, "Cal!" in what seemed like a reflex of concern as her hands flew automatically towards him. He hadn't eaten in hours, so nothing came out, but he retched a few times, and he could feel her hands caressing his hair.

He stood there even after the retching had stopped, crouched down with his hands resting on his knees and his eyes closed as he took deep calming breaths and felt Gillian's hands hesitantly stroking his back. Eventually he felt a bit calmer, and stood up to face her. She looked concerned and uncertain and loving and he said, "Sorry."

She said nothing to that, seemingly at a loss for words.

So he tried to be firm with himself, and he said, "I shouldn't have come. Um, I should go."

She eyed him for a moment, and then nodded, accepting this. For a long moment, he stared back at her, feeling almost surreally calm after that little panic attack. Then he sighed, and turned away. After several steps, he turned back to see her still watching him, and looking so worried that he had to tell her.

"My marriage is over."

He saw the comprehension wash over her, and then the empathy, and he really couldn't take it anymore, so he turned away again and strode towards his car without looking back.

x x x

Gillian was working late. Very late, in fact, because Cal had spent the day moving out of his and Zoe's house, so she had had to cover for him. Not that she minded, after everything he had done for her during her divorce.

It was almost nine, and the Lightman Group was empty, the last person having left two hours ago. So it was that she almost jumped out of her skin when her office door burst open. She gave a second start when she saw Zoe standing in front of her, looking particularly dangerous.

"Well, congratulations," snapped Zoe before Gillian had recovered from her shock. "You must be very pleased with yourself!"

"I ... Wha-"

"I knew you would do this, I always knew. He can't even deny that, can he?"

Gillian felt distinctly as though she was missing an important piece of information.

"I-"

"And there you sit, looking as innocent as a fucking lamb, when you took him from me!"

_That _didn't make any sense.

"Zoe, stop it!" said Gillian loudly, getting to her feet. "What are you talking about?"

Zoe was glaring at her with open animosity.

"I'm talking about you taking Cal away from me!"

"Me? I thought ... I thought you left him."

"Only because he's in love with you."

Gillian felt her heart sink at the misunderstanding, and she immediately objected, "Oh ... Zoe, no, he's-"

"Oh, for God's sake, you have no idea do you?"

Zoe's face had mingled surprise and disgust all over it as Gillian felt lost. And she was sure she looked it.

"Well, he's admitted he's in love with you, _Gillian_, and he chose you. He chose you over me, and he barely even had to think about it. So congratulations for being his number one everything!"

Gillian's brain was struggling to comprehend much of what was going on.

"Wait, what do you mean "chose", because we've never-"

"I mean I gave him the option of cutting me or you out of his life, and it seems he can't part with his precious Foster, so I'm out."

Gillian was stunned into silence, her heart hammering, and feeling thoroughly surreal. Zoe gave her one final look of deep disdain, and turned on her heel to storm out, slamming the door behind her.

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** Thanks for reading!


	11. 110 Better Half

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

x x x

**Chapter 11: Better Half**

Gillian walked into Cal's office to find Zoe, Torres and Cal studying a video on the wall. She crossed her arms reflexively, and caught Zoe's little smile and head tilt as she said, "That sounds like fun," to Cal. Narrowing her eyes slightly, Gillian interrupted.

"Cal."

"What?" he said, as he whipped around to face her.

Gillian, meanwhile, uncrossed her arms and walked forward, holding her hand out in an attempt at civility as she said politely, "Zoe."

"Gillian," said Zoe, taking her hand momentarily, but eyeing her with blatant dislike. Gillian looked away to hide her mirrored expression, and turned to Cal.

"Uh, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked mildly, pointing to the door as she turned towards it.

"She's calling," came Zoe's snide little mutter.

Gillian shot Zoe an annoyed glance over her shoulder, and said, "Cal," again because he was also frowning at Zoe, although more in curiosity than annoyance. She led him out of the room and into the passage, away from his office door.

"No," she said as soon as he had caught up.

He moved right up close to her, and asked, "What no?"

"You know what!" she snapped. "We have never worked for her before. We are not starting now."

"It's an interesting case!" he objected, and then headed down the passage so that she had to follow him. She recognized the defensive action as she strode in his wake, and it annoyed her.

"No, there are plenty of interesting cases!" she said irritably, and when he didn't respond, she added, "You saw the head tilt. She's flirting with you!"

Here he stopped and turned around to face her so quickly that she almost crashed into him.

"Jealous, are we?"

"Frankly, yes."

She could see he was surprised that she didn't even play at denial, and thought it was mighty hypocritical. He got jealous when the produce guy offered her an extra apple, and he never bothered to hide it. Besides, he would have read it off her anyway.

"Don't see why, I chose you, didn't I?" he objected after a pause.

Hardly the point, she thought to herself.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, feeling more annoyed.

"What do you mean? You knew that!"

He was definitely distracted, and she didn't like it.

"I mean about working with her."

"You weren't in your office when she arrived."

Gillian knew for a fact that she had been, because she had arrived at work with Cal that morning and hadn't left her office until just now, having been stuck with a mountain of admin. The best she could assume was that he had glanced into her office as he had left his, and she had been away from her desk at the time so he hadn't seen her.

"You didn't look too hard, did you?"

" … No."

They stared at each other for a few moments, and then he seized her and kissed her. It was a well-used tactic to distract her that worked every time, right now included. He had even turned up the passion to the point where she momentarily forgot that they were standing in the middle of the Group hallway, surrounded by virtually everyone they worked with.

"Lovely," she heard after a moment, and she and Cal pulled apart to find Zoe sneering at them. "Mind if we do some actual work, here?"

Gillian rolled her eyes, and said, "Tell me if you need anything," to Cal as she turned away.

"Actually," and it was Zoe who said it, "the whole reason we came here was for your, uh, _skills_."

Great, inappropriate innuendos. This was going to go well.

x x x

The son of the Ambroses, Ajay, was saying that he had seen a family friend of theirs, Jack Garcia, running away from their house as it burned down. Gillian reviewed the file while Cal and Zoe interviewed Jack Garcia, who adamantly denied having burnt down the house. When they finished, she met them at the door to the cube. Cal looked pleased to see her, and Zoe looked irritated. Gillian carefully forced herself to look polite.

"He sounded convincing," said Zoe mildly.

"Yeah, and looked it," Cal agreed, as the three of them started walking along the passage away from the cube.

"You said that about the Ambrose boy," Zoe pointed out. "They both can't be telling the truth." Here she paused, and glanced over at Cal with a smirk on her face as she said, "You losing your touch?"

Gillian rolled her eyes in annoyance, and interrupted by saying, "I'll evaluate the boy. He may not be able to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Ajay may be imagining what he saw."

"He believes in his fantasy, could appear that he's telling the truth," Cal agreed.

"I'm gonna work on something a bit more tangible," said Zoe, unimpressed. "I'll get the FBI to do checks on Garcia and Ambrose, but … Feel free to talk to the boy." She glanced over to give Gillian a disparaging look, and added, "Take him to the zoo if you like."

At that point, Zoe's cell phone rang, covering the irritated huff of air that Gillian let out at that comment. Cal's hand landed on her lower back in a calming gesture.

"That's Roger," Zoe informed them. "I should probably take this."

"Yeah, how's it going between you two?" asked Cal. "It's good?"

Gillian tried not to care that he cared.

"Yeah, it's great," said Zoe with a false smile, before answering and gushing into the phone as she sauntered away from them.

Cal turned to Gillian and gave her an almost apologetic smile. Neither of them commented on the obvious lie Zoe had just told; something was up in her relationship.

"I get that she hates me," sighed Gillian after a pause. "But you'd think she could lay off a little."

"Yeah, but she won't. And that's my fault, you know."

"It's not like you were happy. It probably-" she faltered, unsure of continuing

"Would've ended soon anyway," Cal finished for her. "I know, but this way there's someone to blame. Me. And you. Not herself." He gave her cheek an affectionate stroke with a finger, and added teasingly, "Come on, you're the shrink, Foster."

"But I'm emotionally involved, so I get to be angry and illogical."

"Fair enough."

They came across Loker, who Cal instructed to call the Ambroses and tell them to bring in their son. Gillian turned away as Loker muttered sarcastically, "Scheduling meetings. Fantastic."

"Anyway, I'm gonna go and help Torres get started on the South East drive-by shooting," she told Cal, pecking his cheek. "You know, who better than me to get inside the world of gangster rappers?"

x x x

Cal and Gillian decided to assess Ajay together. Cal spent most of the session referring to "Penelope", his imaginary friend who was sitting at the table with them. Ajay didn't buy it, and informed Cal that he was weird.

When they returned to his office, Gillian asked in clear amusement, "Your imaginary friend, Penelope?"

"Yeah, it's only girl I know who tells me the truth," Cal joked, forgetting himself for a moment.

"Hey!"

Whoops.

"_Until_ I met you …" he corrected hastily.

"Better."

But her eyes were twinkling.

She sat down opposite his desk, and they discussed the fact that, while Ajay could clearly tell the difference between reality and the fantasies of others, he obviously still believed in his own fantasies. Gillian voiced the opinion that he had imagined seeing Jack Garcia, before adding, "But I'll still get him to draw some more; it's a more direct line to his unconscious."

"Not sure we'll need it," came Zoe's voice as she strode into the office.

"We still have a receptionist here, don't we?" grunted Gillian irritably, and Cal had to suppress a grin.

Zoe ignored her completely, and spoke directly to Cal as she told him that Frank Ambrose was under a mountain of debt and that the house was worth a lot in terms of insurance. Gillian sat across from him, and he watched her try very hard not to look too annoyed, although it was clear as day to him. By the time Zoe had swept out again, not having acknowledged Gillian's presence at all, it became clear to him that he would have to do some damage control. And fast.

"Look, let me buy you dinner-"

"It's fine," she said in that tone women use when the situation is anything but fine. Although, to her credit, she attempted a smile and clearly tried very hard to mean it.

"Right."

There was an awkward pause, and then he added, "You two are gonna have to learn to tolerate each other sometime."

She raised her eyebrows, and said, "This _is_ tolerating each other."

He supposed he should let it go. After all, the two of them hadn't gotten along long before he had fallen in love with Gillian, long before his marriage had been in trouble ... Zoe and Gillian had always had some level of animosity between them, masked with barely believable politeness, even to someone who wasn't an expert in micro-expressions.

Why on earth should he expect that to improve now?

He got to his feet, walked around his desk to Gillian, and kissed the top of her head.

"Let's get out of here."

"Okay."

Whatever she said, he really was going to have to buy her a nice meal. Forcing her to work with Zoe lost him serious points. But how could he say no? Even if Zoe _had_ appeared in his office to insult and belittle him in front of his employees? He owed her. He wondered if he would ever stop feeling that he owed her.

x x x

Upon discovering that Mrs Ambrose had been having an affair with Jack Garcia, Cal and Zoe proceeded to interrogate her on the new likelihood that he had, in fact, burnt down their house. She objected, stating that he had understood, that it hadn't been serious, that she would never ever leave her children, that it had just been a bad patch in their marriage.

Zoe shot Cal several accusatory looks during the conversation, which began to annoy him. After all, it wasn't as though he had actually cheated. Emotionally, yes, and he knew that was bad, but not physically. He had done what he could to resist it. He had been willing to _try_.

He refused to comment, even though Zoe stared expectantly at him when the interview ended. He could see little reason to ask for a fight.

They went to see Jack Garcia and his wife, who, it turned out, knew about the affair already. She claimed to be dealing with it, saying quietly, "Besides, marriage is about figuring out how to make it through when things change."

The conversation made things progressively more awkward between Cal and Zoe; she was still throwing him looks of accusation. Cal attempted to avoid her eye, while inside his blood was boiling. He couldn't help it. Despite what he had said to Gillian earlier, he simply couldn't take her blaming everything on him.

They stalked out of there, Cal taking deep slow breaths in an attempt to lower his blood pressure, because the look in Zoe's eyes was as bad as her yelling. If not worse.

When he said nothing, she finally cracked, saying coldly, "Well, I guess you don't quite believe in making it through change, do you, Cal? Best to cut and run, right? Go for greener pastures?"

He froze, and slowly turned to glare at her, seething. He couldn't not react. She was still Zoe, and he was still Cal, and they would always react to each other.

"Yeah, that's right, Zo, it's all me, isn't it?" he spat. "We were deliriously happy, weren't we, and I just screwed it all up. That's what happened, isn't it?"

"You left me for another woman, Cal!"

"You didn't give me a chance!" he retaliated, fury bubbling up.

"So it's my fault?" she demanded, incredulous.

"I'm just saying you should take a hard look at what happened before you put all the blame on me!"

"Oh, please!"

"No, Zoe, we weren't happy!" She turned away, as he yelled after her, "You would've left eventually! I saw what was happening! If I hadn't fallen in love with her, you would have left me anyway!"

She kept walking, shaking her head, and he followed, still shouting, "Yeah, so don't act as though this was all me, our marriage was over, Zoe!"

She rounded on him, her eyes blazing as she snapped, "And you're saying it's all my fault our marriage was already over? That I drove you into her arms?"

"I'm saying you played a role, too! It's not as though you just loved me for who I am, or were ever willing to compromise-"

"Unlike your precious Gillian?"

"This isn't about her!" he snapped defensively, hating that she endlessly targeted Gillian, who had been the innocent one in all that had happened. "That's what I'm trying to say, Zoe, this was about you and me first."

She was unimpressed, and she glowered at him.

"Well, she certainly did something right, Cal!"

"She reminded me what love should be," he blurted before he could stop himself, and almost winced at the pain that flashed across Zoe's features.

This was so reminiscent of the fights of the last legs of their marriage - the shouting, the accusations, the hurtful words slipping out, the defiance on both sides - that he almost felt the compulsion to skip ahead to the make-up sex, which had been the only way to end one of these back then. Since that was hardly an option anymore, he felt at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. Unfortunately, his hesitation allowed Zoe to retaliate.

"Fine, so you traded up. Good for you. But just so you know, Cal, you were intolerable. And you're right. I would have left you."

That hurt. He had known it to be true, but it hurt to hear her say it. Not least because he could see that she meant it.

"And you remember this when Gillian gets sick of you, too!"

"Excuse me?"

Anger now. No more pain. Just anger.

"You'll see, nobody can stand the scrutiny of someone who sees everything, and has to comment on it all. You just, you saw every doubt, every fear. By the end, that was all you could see, you couldn't let go of anything."

"I was trying to be honest," he retorted quietly.

"Yes. I know," she said, her voice softer than before, less fierce. But still cold. "I know. But I can tell you, sweetheart, there really is such a thing as too much honesty in a marriage."

"I disagree."

"What a shock."

He wanted to tell her how it felt to have that kind of openness. He wanted to tell her that being a part of each others' thoughts was better than the constant need to outdo the other. But of course he couldn't. Besides, he reminded himself, it was unfair for her, because she had never been able to practise it on him. Gillian was an equal.

Plus Gillian had the added bonus of trying, and succeeding, to understand him that Zoe could never be bothered with. He and Zoe had never been friends.

He stared at his ex-wife, who was staring at him in anger, and hurt, and something else ... Was it triumph? So she had wanted to fight?

"Why're you here, then?" he asked her, frustrated. She turned her face away from him. "Why'd you hire me? Hey?"

"It's a tough case," she mumbled, unconvincing even though he couldn't see her face. He shook his head, scowled at her, and gave up. He turned and headed for the exit, assuming she was following and stubbornly refusing to look back and check.

x x x

Gillian was gathering up the papers containing Ajay's illustrations to take to Cal, when Cal himself and Zoe appeared at the door.

"Hey, take a look at these," she said, holding them up. She suddenly noticed the awkward way they faltered over who should enter the room first, and how they were avoiding each others' gaze.

"More drawings?" Cal asked.

"Yeah," she said, holding them out for Cal and Zoe to see.

Her suspicions were further aroused when, after peering at the pages for a moment, Zoe asked her with nothing more than a sort of distracted curiosity, "Well, what do they mean?" while making mild eye contact. She looked strangely vulnerable.

It took a moment for Gillian to recover from the unexpected change in Zoe's demeanor, before she said, while pointing at the drawings, "Uh, well, here the arsonist has a tail, and there he's breathing fire."

"So …" said Zoe thoughtfully, "They're becoming more …"

"More elaborate," Cal finished for her, and he exchanged another uncomfortable look with Zoe that Gillian didn't miss.

"Exactly," Gillian said, now looking back at Zoe and trying to match her polite interest. "If it were a true memory, he'd stick to what he remembers, but Ajay's embellishing his story."

Here she looked searchingly at Cal, who caught her gaze and told her with his face that he knew what she was seeing, and that she didn't have to worry.

"Wait, so he did see Jack Garcia or he didn't?" Zoe was asking. "Which one is it?"

Gillian spoke once more to Zoe, in as friendly a tone as she could muster, "Well, Ajay believes his story's true in the same way he believes in Santa Clause. Somebody he trusts told him it was true. It's an implanted memory."

Zoe was looking into her eyes as she comprehended the meaning behind that. That was all that was there. Comprehension. No anger. No animosity. Something had certainly upset her. And Gillian simply didn't have the heart to be antagonistic towards her when she was like this.

x x x

It didn't last long. Cal more or less filled Gillian in on their fight, which explained a lot, but by the time they had finished grilling Ajay's parents, Zoe was back to her old self.

"We're gonna need to go over the feed," Cal had announced as they left the cube, Gillian meeting them out there once more.

"Well, it's late, I don't want to interrupt any plans with your little girlfriend," Zoe had sneered.

Gillian rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time since Zoe had appeared in their office, and said, "I'll be in my office when you're done," to Cal before throwing Zoe a look of disdain, which was more than mirrored back to her. It had been a ridiculous comment, especially since Emily was meeting her father at his office for dinner later anyway.

Even ignoring the "little".

She was already walking away by the time Cal said, "All right," and she didn't bother looking back again.

x x x

Cal and Zoe bickered in front of the videos, while Zoe ate a piece of Gillian's liquorice that was in a packet on Cal's desk (if Gillian ever found out, he would be in big trouble). She threw insults, and laughed at him, and so he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him, and he began to push for an answer about what was going on with Roger.

When she finally snapped and revealed that Roger had in fact proposed to her, Cal felt something. Stunned. And not in a good way. He hadn't even noticed Emily come in, but he turned to her as she exclaimed, "You just had to tell him about it now?"

She was eyeing her mother with exasperation, but no antagonism. Their relationship had improved drastically over the past year or so as Emily grew out of the worst of her hormones, and the tension at home had diffused with her parents' divorce.

Zoe sighed, and said, "I've gotta get back to the office." She turned to Emily, and added, "Have a wonderful dinner, sweetheart," before kissing her cheek and striding out.

Cal had yet to react.

"Oh yeah," Emily muttered as she stared at him. "It's gonna be a blast."

x x x

When Cal had recovered from his shock a few seconds later, he turned to Emily, and said, "Hello, love."

"Uh huh," she said, eyeing him warily.

"Pizza for dinner then?" he asked, firmly changing the subject.

"Sure," and here she hesitated before asking, "Is Gillian going to join us?"

Oh, right. Gill.

"Of course," he said. "I'll go and get her. You order."

He strode straight into Gillian's office. She looked up at him, and he could see that she was still feeling a bit crabby.

"Em's here for dinner, she's ordering pizza," he told her, and then waited for her to ask.

"What's wrong?"

Yep, she was good.

"Roger's proposed to Zoe," he said. He was pretty sure he shouldn't want to tell her, that he shouldn't want to discuss this with her. But she was how he dealt with things, so too bad.

"You okay?"

Her tone was predictably gentle and understanding, although he saw the slight insecurity in her eyes.

"It feels strange," he said with a sigh. "It doesn't feel _good_, but ... It doesn't feel awful either. Just strange."

"Yeah."

She watched him for a few moments, then got to her feet, and came over to stand in front of him and look at him with those clear loving blue eyes. It occurred to him that he really had lucked out with her. And feeling lucky for having Gillian was on a whole new level compared to Zoe, and he had once thought himself the luckiest man in the world when she had agreed to marry him. He wondered how much being with Zoe made him appreciate what Gillian was to him, and wondered how awful he would be feeling right now if he didn't have Gillian.

"It's strange ... how things change," he said at last.

She merely took his hand and leaned up to kiss his cheek, and together they went back to his office to join Emily for pizza.

x x x

"Hey, Dad?" Emily called from the little loft in his library.

"Hey?" he glanced up from his book. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

He eyed her, and said, "I'm fine."

"Because, you know, you do have Gillian, but I get that it might be hard."

"That's true, and I'm fine."

There was another silence as Cal returned to his book. They were just waiting for Gillian to finish a call with a client before they were going to go home.

"It's just that ... She's not wearing the ring."

"Hey?" he looked up again.

"She's not wearing a ring," Emily repeated.

Once that had sunk in, he asked, "Why?"

Emily briefly revisited her teenage parental frustration, and said irritably, "Come on, why do you think? I mean, she's not sure about Roger. She still thinks she's in love with you."

"What?"

Dear God, he hoped that wasn't true. But this was something that, ironically, Emily would know better than he would.

Right on cue, she said, "I mean I see what's going on with you two. I always do. I always _have_."

"That's true, love," he murmured, looking into her concerned eyes. And it occurred to him that children knew things. Never disregard the children. He whipped out his phone, thinking of the Ambroses, and dialed Zoe's number.

x x x

The rest of the case was solved by Cal and Zoe, Gillian staying more or less away. Jack Garcia's wife had taken revenge on the women her husband had cheated with by burning down their houses, and that old quote, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," played around in Cal's head. He was sitting in the break room watching Zoe talk on the phone outside, and thinking. Thinking about that wise old warning and how it aptly described his ex-wife at that point.

It didn't matter, though. Because he watched her and realised why things felt so strange. It was his lack of jealousy that bothered him so very much. He was sad, sad for the loss of someone who had once been the love of his life, but mostly sad for the loss of his passion towards her.

Grieving the loss of his jealousy.

"Hey," came Gillian's voice as she walked into the break room, and he thought that perhaps it hadn't been so much lost as redirected.

"Hey," he said, smiling warmly at her.

"Heard you did all right," she said, sitting down opposite him.

"Yeah, we did, actually."

His eyes drifted back to Zoe outside, and then he added, "You know, I miss caring sometimes."

He looked back into the eyes of the woman he was now entirely dedicated to, and chuckled at her confusion. It was a rare sight in Gillian Foster. He reached over and took her hand across the table.

"But it's nice seeing that you care that way for me now."

"Excuse me?"

"I like seeing _you_ jealous for a change," he said teasingly, even though he meant it.

She grinned, and said, "Get over yourself," in a tone that said very much the opposite. She glanced over her shoulder to where Zoe was on the phone, and Cal saw them make eye contact.

And Zoe's eyes more or less flipped Gillian off.

Gillian turned back to him, looking vexed, and he laughed as he said, "Hell hath no fury, Gill."

"Speaking of which, _you'd_ better have been the one who opened my liquorice."

x x x

"Thanks for your help on this," Zoe was saying as he walked her to the door. "My office is grateful."

"Your office is welcome," he replied mildly.

"We weren't a total disaster together," she added.

"What?" he asked, startled.

"I mean working together," she corrected quickly. "And I know I should've told you about Roger. It just … I don't know, I guess it just never felt like the right time-"

"No problem. You should probably wear the ring, though," he added, and they both laughed. And then he saw her look at him in a very dangerously flirtatious way, and he thought that Emily might be right.

"Right," he said firmly. "I'll see you around."

"Bye," she said, still looking at him like that, and with a nod, he turned away quickly, his heart rate picking up nervously as he walked firmly away without glancing back.

He couldn't lie. It still took some strength to resist Zoe, and he doubted he would have been able to had it not been for Gillian.

Had she not reminded him what love was.

And how much he appreciated it.

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** Thanks for reading!


	12. 111 Undercover

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

x x x

**Chapter 12: Undercover**

Cal, Gillian and Torres were in his office trying to decide how two cops could be giving the same account of a shooting, and yet have one clearly telling the truth and the other clearly lying.

Gillian was telling Torres that the one cop was strangely agitated for merely lying to back up his partner's truth, while Cal listened from his desk.

"Hey, it's time for that staff meeting," he suddenly interrupted, getting to his feet.

"Mm, that's yours," she muttered.

"Nah, actually, it's yours," he retorted, sweeping ahead of her, and she smiled in amusement before following him, leaving Torres behind her looking perplexed.

"Wait, since when do we have staff meetings?"

x x x

The decision to fake the company being sued had been made soon after Loker had snitched to the SEC about Joseph Hollin. Although Gillian still found the whole thing ridiculous.

The day after the lie, Cal had reviewed the video feed of Loker lying to Gillian. Gillian had been sitting in her office when he had stormed in looking, if possible, even angrier than he had the previous evening.

"Wha-"

"He told Torres."

"Excuse me?"

"Loker told Torres about lying to you. He told her. I could see it on her face!"

"Cal, slow down," said Gillian, with a sigh at his tendency to forget to explain himself.

He scowled at her.

"Are you listening to me? He's gone and asked Torres to lie for him!"

"Are you sure?" she asked, staring into his blazing eyes.

"Yeah, immediately after talking to you, he dragged her aside, and I could tell from her face that he had told her."

Gillian also felt an increase in her annoyance levels at that. But she supposed Loker had had to confide in someone, and it was no secret that he was utterly drawn to Torres.

"I want him fired," snapped Cal firmly.

"No, Cal -" Gillian began.

"Yes," said Cal, glowering.

Gillian had been thinking about this, and had concluded that, as angry as she was with Loker, he didn't deserve to be fired over this. Not after so many years of dedication to them.

"He's important to us," she pointed out.

"No, he's disloyal," Cal retorted.

"Loyalty isn't the only thing that matters."

"It is to me."

She was beginning to feel frustrated, his pigheadedness when angry making it very difficult to have a rational conversation.

"What about me, Cal? Other things matter to me, too. Loker matters to me."

It was strange how much he did. She wasn't exactly close to him, and she didn't find him to be the most appealing personality, but he _was_ like family. They had all been through a lot together.

"I refuse to let him get away with this!" Cal objected, his voice rising. "He disrespected _you_, Gillian! You should want him-"

"I don't want him to get away with this," she amended quickly. "You know that loyalty _is_ important to me, too. But I think firing him is a bit too drastic. Give him the chance to prove himself."

"And Torres?"

Gillian felt her heart sink, and said, "Okay, now she's being loyal, Cal. To him."

"No, I know that. I meant what about the position he's put her in?"

That was a relief.

"They're friends," she said after a pause. "I doubt she'd want you to fire him either."

"She's too good for him," Cal burst out in frustration.

Gillian felt oddly delighted. This was the first time Cal was truly showing how much he appreciated Torres. But she didn't want to draw his attention to that, mainly because it would probably just wind him up further, so instead she teased, "So go and ask her out yourself."

He stared at her in open disbelief at her moment of fun, and then grunted, "Shut up, Foster."

"Look, why don't we compromise?" she suggested, taking advantage of his momentary distraction, while getting to her feet, and moving around to lean back on the front of her desk while looking at him.

"Compromise."

"Yes. I don't want you to fire him. You can do anything else you like."

Cal stared, and repeated suspiciously, "Anything?"

"Yes."

"So say I demote him to the lowest position."

"Okay."

"An intern. And lower his salary."

"Fine."

"To nothing."

Okay, drastic.

"Nothing?"

"You said anything," Cal pointed out. "He can choose to leave then."

"You're basically firing him," Gillian said irritably. Did he always _have_ to win?

"Nope, he still gets to work here, research here, learn from us. But accept that we're getting nothing from him."

She watched him, considering the truth in that. Loker worshipped Cal, and he was passionate about their research. This was, in fact, a very cruel position to put him in.

She sighed, and mumbled doubtfully, "Cal ..."

"You said anything," he said again, looking challengingly at her, and she could tell that it was this or Loker was fired.

"Yes, I suppose I did," she finally said resignedly.

It had been late at that point, so Cal hadn't been able to go and break it to Loker immediately, something that Gillian (at the time) felt was a good thing, considering he was still in quite a rage. Unfortunately, this gave him time to think and in doing so, he came up with one of those ideas that only Cal Lightman would think of.

She was folding laundry in his kitchen later that evening when he informed her that he wanted to test Torres's ability to keep a secret for a friend under pressure. She watched him with growing incredulity as he explained his plan to her while looking decidedly pleased with himself.

"What do you think?" he concluded, his eyes bright.

There was a pause as she stared at him, clutching some of his underwear in her hands, and then she said slowly, "So you want to use company funds to pay our lawyers to come in and pretend we're being sued and, on company time, depose all our employees, just to see what Torres will do?"

"Yeah."

Oh, God, he really was being serious.

"That's ridiculous," she told him, shaking her head and, finished with folding the underwear, placing it on the pile of folded clothes.

"But you won last time," he said, eyeing her with determination.

"What?"

"I wanted Loker fired, you didn't, he's not getting fired, you won. It's my turn."

"I didn't win," she objected. "We compromised."

"No, this is compromise," Cal retorted. "I gave you that, you give me this."

She could tell she wasn't going to win this one this way, so she said instead, "I'll play you for it."

That sparked his interest.

"Play what?"

"I don't know. Whatever you like."

"Arm wrestling."

"Except that," she said quickly.

"Why not?" he asked with a smirk, moving to stand right in front of her.

"Because it's not fair, Cal! Sexual dimorphism; you've got a biological advantage!"

He was grinning at her, so she turned her back on him to continue folding the laundry, and then he placed his hands on her hips, drawing her closer.

Feeling distracted, she suggested, "How about Scrabble?"

"No way," he said, placing his lips on her neck.

"Why-"

"You always beat me," he mumbled, his voice more muffled now against her skin.

"You've beaten me."

"Yeah, twice. Not a chance." He sucked her earlobe into his mouth for a few seconds, and then said, "Poker."

"Nice try," she grunted, placing a folded pair of her pyjama pants onto the pile.

"Roulette then," he said, moving his lips back down her neck to her shoulder. She could feel her skin shudder and form goosebumps.

"We don't have roulette," she pointed out, reaching for one of his T-shirts.

"So we go to a casino."

"I'm not letting you near a casino."

"What are you, my mother?"

Since he was currently pushing the fabric of her blouse away so that he could draw the skin under there into his mouth, the comment seemed especially ridiculous, and Gillian found herself rolling her eyes.

"Yes, Cal, I'm your mother, I've been meaning to mention it to you."

She could feel him grin against her skin, and then he turned her around to face him. Running his lips agonisingly slowly along her jawbone, and then her cheek in the direction of her mouth, he said reasonably, "We just go, roulette for this, and then go for dinner."

Damn him. Her resolve was beginning to waver.

"How would that even work?" she asked, still trying to sound annoyed. Although in truth she sounded breathy more than anything else.

His lips reached the corner of her mouth, and he said, "One takes red, one takes black."

"Why not just flip a coin then?"

"Because that's less fun."

And then his lips were finally on hers, the kiss instantly deep and passionate, because his toying had made her desperate. She dropped the T-shirt she had long ago stopped folding, and grabbed at the shirt he was wearing instead as she kissed him harder.

She agreed to the roulette idea about ten minutes later, half naked on the couch, the laundry forgotten, his hands on her thighs and lips teasing another part of her in an agonisingly delicious fashion.

Then she lost at the roulette.

x x x

They strode into the conference room where the staff was assembled, chattering away.

"Hi," said Cal loudly, and everyone turned to face their two bosses. "Uh, let's not spend too much time on this. We're being sued."

There was a moment as everyone absorbed that, and then Gillian picked up with the explanation.

"Some of you worked on the Joseph Hollin case. He was the banker whose daughter ran a Ponzi scheme with his investors' money. They're suing everybody that was involved in the failed attempt to recover his assets. And that includes us."

Cal eyed the staff while she spoke and noticed that Loker was stupidly making significant eye-contact with Torres. Honestly, this guy was useless. When Gillian finished, he continued in as mild a tone as he could.

"So, our lawyer's gonna want to talk to you, uh, individually. Damages could run into hundreds of millions of dollars, which I don't happen to have, so, you know, do your best to answer the questions as truthfully as possible. All right?"

And with that, he and Gillian swept out again, and she followed him back into his office.

"This is absurd," she sighed at him.

He grinned, and said, "You were wonderfully convincing. I'm impressed."

"Thank you."

"Loker's a moron," he added.

"Yes, he wasn't even a little bit subtle, was he?"

"Sure I can't just fire him?"

"Compromises Cal. They're fun."

He was grinning again at the memory.

"Yeah, who knew?"

x x x

Cal was sitting beside Gillian on the couch in her office the following evening watching the news report on the cops who had shot the kid on the roof. When it ended, he switched it off and got to his feet.

"Right, I'm going to talk to Loker now."

She turned to him, and said, "Be nice."

"I will not."

He strode out before she could object. He swept through the halls and spotted Loker hovering outside the break room, staring through the glass.

"Oi!" he snapped as he drew level with him. "My office!"

And he stormed back to his office, not looking back. He had been suppressing a lot of rage for several weeks now (they had decided to wait a while to make the lawsuit seem more authentic) and he had no desire to go soft on Loker. If it weren't for the fact that Gillian cared so bloody much, he would be out on his ass by now.

Cal sat down behind his desk, leaned back, and stared expectantly at Loker who was looking sheepish, but determined.

"Before you say anything," Loker began, "it was me. I - I blew up the deal."

Cal was mildly impressed that Loker had come clean, because as far as he could tell, Loker had no idea that they knew the truth. Maybe Gill was right.

"I – I went to the SEC," Loker continued. "I lied to Foster about it. I still think it was the right thing to do."

With that addition, Loker dropped straight back down to bottom in Cal's estimation.

"But no-one else was involved; it was just me," Loker finished.

Cal eyed him blankly for a moment, before saying with a tiny smirk, "I knew that."

"You did?"

Loker looked stunned enough that Cal felt a bit smug.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I've known that all along."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Loker demanded.

"Because I decided to run a test," said Cal vaguely.

"What kind of test?" asked Loker, and Cal stared him down until he worked it out. "The lawsuit," he breathed in comprehension. "That was a test. You lied to everyone in the office so you could treat me like a lab rat?"

Honestly, this kid thought everything was about him.

"No ..." said Cal lightly. "No, I was testing Torres."

He watched Loker pale slightly at that, before he asked nervously, "Why?"

"I could tell she knew what you'd done, I mean, there's no surprise there, but … you know, we have a lot of secrets here, so I wanted to see if she could keep one under pressure."

And he had been greatly impressed at Torres's ability to keep her friend's secret. He still felt Loker was undeserving of such loyalty, but then again, when did that matter? He, Cal, had the undisputed loyalty of the best woman he had ever met, and had never for a day felt that he deserved it.

"Are you gonna fire her for not turning me in?" Loker asked, his voice rising slightly in anger.

"Nah, I'd've fired her if she had," said Cal dismissively. "Loyalty's crucial here. But you on the other hand …" and here he paused to give Loker a look of deep disgust, as his voice dropped to one filled with disdain. "What you did is inexcusable. And involving her is selfish, disrespectful and just plain stupid."

He spat out those last words, still fuming inside.

Loker looked both chagrined and angry.

"I'll empty my office," he muttered quietly, turning to leave.

For an instant, Cal was tempted to just let him. But a moment later, he caved and said, "No, you can stay." Loker turned to look at him with disbelief, and a bit of hope that Cal felt he'd better dissipate quickly. "You can stay, but from now on you'll be paid what you're worth. Which is nothing."

Loker eyed Cal, looking resigned and displeased. Well, what did he expect, betraying and then lying to _Gillian_ of all people? Cal was as loyal to her as she was to him.

"Because I lied to your girlfriend, I'm suddenly worth nothing?" he asked pettily.

"You're worth nothing to me if you have no loyalty," said Cal coldly. "And even less if you _are_ stupid enough to lie to Gillian, expecting to get away with it. And you're right, it doesn't help your cause that she's in a relationship with your other, far less understanding, boss."

Loker swallowed, and had the grace to look self-conscious and ashamed.

"You're an unpaid intern," Cal concluded, standing up. "It's that, or you can leave."

And without waiting for a response, he stepped into his library, strode through the door on the other side and headed straight for Gillian's office. He knocked lightly, and let himself back in.

Gillian looked up from where she was now sitting at her desk and looking concerned, asked, "So, what's he gonna do?"

Cal shrugged.

"Dunno. Didn't hang around to find out."

He flopped down into an armchair and watched her look at him. She seemed to accept the fact that he didn't care that much, and merely sighed.

"Did you enjoy my little game then?" he asked her, smirking.

She smiled at him then, and confessed, "It was kind of fun." There was a moment's hesitation, and she added, "I'll admit it was a tad entertaining watching Loker squirm in his interview."

"More than a tad," grinned Cal. "But Torres did well."

"You must be very proud."

Cal gave a shrug, and didn't confirm. It was true, but he'd be damned if he would admit it out loud. It was bad enough that he knew that Gillian knew it to be true.

"It was nice working with you on this case," he said instead.

"Told you it would get better."

He guessed it had helped his resentment towards Torres ease off, now that he and Gillian more or less managed to work together more often again. He had always been possessive of her, even before they had been romantically involved, and he disliked sharing her with others at work. Or anywhere.

She got up, and came to sit on his lap, and he curled his arms around her waist as he leaned up to kiss her lips.

"Yeah, we get to do this more," he murmured. "And you've been looking particularly beautiful, if you don't mind me saying."

She gave a little flushed pleased smile, and kissed his nose.

"Thanks for not firing him."

"He goes against you one more time though-"

"I know, I know."

"And if he stays, I'm not going to be nice to him."

"I know."

"Aren't you a little know-it-all?"

"Thanks for protecting me, Cal."

He stared at her. She really was a know-it-all. Especially when it came to him. He loved it. Other than his daughter, no-one else knew a thing about him.

She knew everything.

"What?" she asked.

"You're turning me on. Let's go."

She smirked at him, and then leaned forward to give him a tantalizingly deep kiss, one that made him flush with heat, and feel dangerous stirrings in certain parts of his body. Yep, they definitely had to go now, or he may wind up being charged with some form of public indecency.

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** Thought I'd go with a more light-hearted tone for this one. This episode is actually a really nice one, and I love Cal's and Gillian's interactions in it so much that I felt little need to change much. Other than that whole Alec-sponsor thing, obviously. So I went for focussing on the Loker thing instead. Hope you enjoyed it; thanks for reading!


	13. 112 Blinded

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long. Been a hectic couple of weeks varsity-wise, with exams coming up. Plus this was a long one. Hope you enjoy :-)

x x x

**Chapter 13: Blinded**

Gillian wasn't thrilled. Not that there was anything she could do about it, because a case like this was exactly the kind of case where Cal stopped caring about his own safety, regardless of how anyone around him felt. She _wanted _to beg him not to put himself into prison, not to antagonise the prisoners and not to get in the face of Andrew Jenkins, a man who had kidnapped, blinded and raped twelve women before being locked away. She wanted to plead with him to find another way, to be safe. But she knew it was pointless.

He wouldn't back down on this one. No way in hell. Not now that there was a copycat out there who had already victimised six women.

Besides, he already knew how she felt. He could see it all over her face, she knew. But other than giving her wrist a sort of reassuring squeeze as he discussed the plan with FBI Special Agent Ben Reynolds, he changed nothing. It was one of those things that she both loved and hated about him; his almost blind determination when it came to protecting the innocent. And as such, it was one of the things she had had to learn to deal with.

What made it more difficult was that he drew back from her as he got absorbed in his plan. She was used to being part of making the plans, or at least having them discussed with her before anyone else. But not with this one. He had been quiet and reserved since he had been called by the FBI, and the first time she heard that he wanted to infiltrate prison to earn Jenkins's trust had been at the meeting with Reynolds in Cal's office as he announced it to both of them.

Reynolds had had his doubts, had scowled, had shaken his head, while Cal remained firm. Gillian, who had wanted to agree with Reynolds on this one, said nothing at all until Reynolds turned to her and asked, "Do _you _think this'll work?"

She'd wanted to say no, that she thought it was too dangerous, that Cal had clearly lost his mind. But she was supposed to be on his side, so instead she had simply said, "Dr Lightman knows what he's doing, Agent Reynolds. You needed his help; let him help you." And Reynolds had caved, as men tended to do when she decided to be convincing.

The following day, they headed to the prison. Dressed in what looked like orange scrubs, Cal had only paused to wink at her before being led away. They had barely spoken over the past couple of days due to his immense distraction, and she missed him.

She watched on the security monitors, along with Reynolds and Torres, as he got thrown into the mess hall by the prison guards, watched as he cockily smirked at whoever looked his way, watched him swagger through the room until he spotted someone with a short temper sitting near Jenkins, and watched as he shoved the man's tray of food against his chest. If it hadn't been so dangerous, she would have been smiling at his arrogance and his balls. But instead she winced as he was pounced upon and beaten up by the prisoner until the guards intervened. Blood dripping from his mouth, Cal grinned around at the jeering prisoners, while her own stomach curled to see him hurt.

But it had worked in getting Jenkins's attention. She could see him watching Cal with great interest, still chewing his food, as he was the only one in the mess hall who had not leapt to his feet to jeer at the brawl. And she felt her own interest stirring enough to push aside her worry for now.

Later, Cal was put to work in the laundry with Jenkins. They watched him ignore everyone in the room as he began dumping bedding into one of the giant laundry machines. He didn't even glance in Jenkins's direction. She was feeling oddly proud of how good he was.

Reynolds was far less impressed and was pacing around impatiently, before snapping, "Does anybody wanna tell me why Mr Genius is ignoring the guy he's here to talk to? Huh? I mean, what is he waiting for?"

Gillian, who had been ignoring him for the most part, finally explained vaguely, "Andrew Jenkins is a highly skilled pathological liar. If we come at him head on, we'll get nothing."

"If Jenkins has intel on the copycat, it would be good to get it before another woman gets abducted," grumbled Reynolds irritably.

"Well, Lightman wants Jenkins to make the first move. And he will."

"And what if he gets made?"

She turned to him, and said with quiet confidence, "He won't."

"Agent Reynolds," said Torres, looking at him in a kind of arrogant irritation that Cal would have been proud of. "If you didn't think we could do the job, why did the FBI bring us on the case?"

Gillian felt a rush of warmth towards Torres.

"Look, I've interviewed Jenkins five times, and I've got zero on the copycat, so let me put it this way: I don't believe in holistic medicine. But if the chemo's not working, I'll give acupuncture a shot."

Gillian found that comment both irritating and amusing.

On the monitor, Jenkins approached Cal and offered, "Hey, need a hand?"

"I think acupuncture's about to pay off," said Gillian, smiling to herself.

Cal ignored Jenkins completely.

"Hello?" said Jenkins, a bit more loudly, and when Cal still didn't react, he added, "If you change your mind, just give me a yell. Name's Andrew Jenkins."

Cal gave a kind of smirk as he closed the door to the laundry machine, but other than that gave no indication that he knew Jenkins was there as he wheeled the trolley straight past him and walked away.

"Progress," said Gillian, still impressed in spite of herself. She would _never_ be able to pull something like this off.

Reynolds gives a hiss of disbelief.

"Patience is not one of your virtues, is it, Agent Reynolds?" she asked, turning to him, still smiling.

"No," he said crossly.

At that point one of the guards showed up with several large boxes of Jenkins's fan mail. Gillian sent Torres back to the office to read through them, because she and Cal were certain the copycat would have written to Jenkins.

She and Reynolds stayed and watched Cal the rest of the day, but he didn't interact with Jenkins again until dinner.

Cal was strutting through the mess hall holding a tray of food, and seemingly unaware that Jenkins was following him. He made to sit down, and as he did, Jenkins slipped into the seat opposite. Cal reared back as though he no longer wanted the seat, but then looked at Jenkins and smirked.

"Heard about you on the TV," he said, not sitting down. "You're that- you got that copycat, right?"

"Swelling chest, chin up, smile," murmured Gillian, watching Jenkins's reaction. "That's pride."

She hated him.

"I don't get it myself," Cal continued, unimpressed, dumping his tray on the table. "I mean, you're just another pervert who can't close."

"Is that who I am?" asked Jenkins mildly, smiling up at Cal.

"What happens is, you get – you get queasy when it's time to finish, is that it?" Cal taunted, shoving a large mouthful of jello into his mouth, still standing.

"What're you in for?" asked Jenkins curiously.

"I got an ex-wife who sometimes doesn't let me see my kids," Cal told him, taking another large bite of jello, and then speaking with his mouth full as he continued, "And a cop took her side, won a jury, so then I killed him."

"Oh," said Jenkins with interest, before asking softly, "This um, this cop. Does he jerk wake every morning with your name on his lips? Is your face the last thing he sees every night before he falls asleep? When he meets someone new, hears the horror in their voice, who does your cop think of? Oh, wait, that's … that's right, he's not thinkin' of anyone."

While he spoke, Gillian felt sickening disgust in the pit of her stomach, as well as a slight chill up her spine and once more marvelled at Cal's ability to act interested when she knew he was at least as disgusted as she was.

"Take your point," said Cal at last, and chucked the empty jello container on the table, before finally taking the seat to eat with Jenkins.

"Thought you might," said Jenkins, looking pleased with himself.

x x x

Gillian spent that night alone at home for the first time in several weeks not sleeping well and worrying about Cal. Although she knew he would be just fine. He could take care of himself. She just hated the thought of him being in a prison cell right now instead of beside her in bed. She returned to the prison with Reynolds the next day, and they spent a long boring morning watching nothing much happen, until Cal and Jenkins had returned to the laundry room.

Cal engaged Jenkins into some discussion about his crimes while he folded the laundry. Jenkins explained that he had been caught when a cop stopped his car and heard the girl screaming in the trunk. He bragged that he had almost managed to talk his way out of it.

"So you're that good, are you?" Cal asked.

"Yeah, but you aren't."

Everybody froze, and Gillian's heart sank.

"'Scuse me?" said Cal.

"Different costume, same game."

Cal frowned at him for a moment, and then said, "No, you've lost me."

"Who are you?" asked Jenkins, watching Cal closely, confidently. "'Cause you're not a cop-killer."

"That's what I keep telling my lawyer," grinned Cal.

"No. You're a fraud. Who sent you in here? Special Agent Reynolds?"

"Oh, damn it!" exclaimed Reynolds furiously, before rounding on Gillian. "Lightman's supposed to be reading Jenkins; it looks like it's the other way around to me!"

Gillian was feeling utterly stunned herself. She had been watching closely, and Cal had been doing an incredible job. He must have slipped somewhere, a moment she had missed. She said to Reynolds, "I – I've never seen anyone read Lightman who hasn't had deception training, I – I don't know what happened-"

Reynolds brushed her off in frustration.

On the monitor, Cal suddenly dropped his act completely, and said lightly, "Well, it was worth a shot." He held out his hand and added, "Cal Lightman, how d'you do?"

Jenkins shook Cal's hand, and said, "And you wanna know what I know about my … friend, the copycat."

x x x

When Cal finally emerged, dressed in his normal clothes once more, Gillian had to fight very hard against the desire to rush over and pull him into an embrace. That could wait until they were alone. His eyes met hers, however, and told her that he felt it too. Sometimes it was a relief being able to read each other.

They found the prison lawyer, who was unimpressed as he drew up the contract for the chocodiles that Jenkins had requested. Gillian found it annoying, to be frank, that they were giving Jenkins the power. A smirking Jenkins, who had been brought out to speak to them, gave them an address, and they all headed quickly out of the prison, Reynolds to his car and Cal and Gillian to hers. When they reached the car, they finally turned to each other, and hugged tightly.

"Miss me?" asked Cal gently as she clutched him.

"Mm-hm."

"So I shouldn't get myself arrested again, then?"

"Mm-mm."

They pulled apart, and he smiled at her, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. She reached up as well to gently run her fingers over his cuts from the brawl in the mess hall. Then he kissed her softly, and said, "All right."

She didn't really believe him, but she smiled anyway because she was glad to have him back, and then they got into the car to head for the address. Cal drove them there. When they arrived, it was to find the house crawling with police, and Agent Reynolds looking upset. Wondering what on earth the police were already doing there, they leapt out of the car and asked Reynolds what was going on. He informed them, in a tone of great irritation, that Jenkins had played them, and that this was in fact the house of Camille Halpern, who had just been abducted.

x x x

Cal and Gillian went to the cube to set everything up after arranging, much to Gillian's distaste, for Jenkins to be brought in. He was distracted, and she was less than happy. They didn't really speak until they had finished setting up. Then she asked, "Do you have a plan?"

He looked up at her, and said with a half smile, "Of course."

But he didn't elaborate. She wondered if he was at all worried after what had happened at the prison. She was. She had never seen him get caught out before, and they had been working together for almost seven years. And she wondered if getting Jenkins in here was an over excessive way of compensating for that, or if it was part of the plan she was missing. She personally felt that the further away Jenkins was, the better.

They walked out of the cube together, and came across Reynolds explaining to Torres and Loker that, based on past accounts, the copycat was likely to toy with Camille Halpern for the first twenty four hours before blinding and raping her.

"What's he do before he blinds them?" Loker was asking as Gillian and Cal approached.

"He ties them up, gags them and forces them to watch videos of his previous victims," Gillian told him, feeling cold inside. Loker looked sickened.

Cal, meanwhile, warned them that only he was allowed to talk to Jenkins. Reynolds grunted that he hoped this plan would be more successful.

"At least we know Jenkins is connected to the copycat," Torres retorted. "That's more than _you've_ found out in the last three months."

Gillian was proud of her, and glad Cal had been there to witness that display of her loyalty to him. But at that point, they heard people approaching, and they all turned to watch Jenkins being led down the hall with a small army of guards and agents. He was grinning and swaggering, and looking utterly delighted with life. It made Gillian want to be sick. And punch his face in. Maybe something a bit more violent.

"Now, I told you where to find him," Jenkins said, with mock remorse when he reached them. "You just got there late." He turned to Reynolds, nodded, and said, "Agent Ben. Thanks for the hall pass."

Reynolds didn't bother to respond, and merely glowered at him. Jenkins then turned to look directly at Gillian, and said softly, with a smile, "Hi, Foster."

Gillian's insides froze, wondering how he even knew her name. They hadn't been introduced. Cal was standing a little bit in front of her, so she saw his shoulders tense up almost imperceptively, but he grinned at Jenkins and said politely, "Follow me."

He turned and strode towards the cube.

Jenkins grinned, and jeered, "Aw, somebody doesn't like me talking to his _lady_."

The guards jerked him away to follow Cal, and Gillian bristled. She _hated_ that he was here. She hated that grin. She hated how delighted he was at everything that was happening. She hated that Cal was indulging him. And she was spooked, and she hated that, too. Spooked on her home ground. Without Cal at her side.

She turned and stalked away.

x x x

Nobody went home that night. Nor did any of them speak to Jenkins much. They wandered the halls, and went over his past crimes, and the copycat's past crimes. They sifted through fan mail, and discussed the case with Reynolds. Cal said little to any of them, because he was carefully putting together his plan. Knowing how delicate the situation was.

He looked up long enough to insult Torres every now and then, or ask Reynolds a question, but other than that, he was lost in his thoughts. When the sun rose, he decided it was time to talk to Jenkins.

He headed for the cube, summoning various interns to help, and banishing Torres to the fan mail. He didn't know where Gillian was. On Cal's arrival, Jenkins was still grinning widely. He was in the process of getting Jenkins situated, when he heard a gentle rapping on the glass.

He glanced around and saw Gillian on the other side. She gestured for him to come outside and talk to her. He pattered out at once, leaving the door open behind him. He noticed that she had her arms tightly crossed across her chest, and she didn't smile at his appearance.

"What?" he asked warily.

She spoke almost robotically as she said, "So, I called Natalie Wright, the woman attacked two weeks ago. She's a wreck, but she's the only copycat victim willing to talk to me. I thought I might be able to get some detail that could help us with our new victim. So I'll be on my cell."

She turned away at once.

"If you need me," Cal finished for her quietly.

She stopped, and sighed before turning to him and saying warningly, "Cal."

But Cal wasn't in the mood to have her upset with him, and he continued firmly, "No, 'cause normally you add "if you need me." And sometimes I'm even lucky enough to get a peck on the cheek. You're pissed, right?" She looked it, too, and more so as he spoke. "'Cause you think I blew it at the prison, right?"

The thought annoyed him, although a small voice pointed out that she had no reason to believe otherwise.

"I'm not blaming you," she said firmly, and he believed her.

"Well, you're angry," he pointed out.

She snapped then, and burst out, "Because Jenkins is loving this! I mean, this is the best day he's had in over a decade. He's out of jail, he's getting all this attention. We are filling his every fantasy."

Feeling annoyance swell up in his chest, he snapped, "Oh, by we, you mean me. Is that it?"

She shook her head in irritation and then, without a word, turned and strode away. Cal glared after her for a moment, and then stalked back inside the cube to Jenkins. He asked if he knew who the copycat was. When Jenkins denied it, Cal shot him a bunch a questions about his childhood, and he lied to all of them. Making it impossible to get a baseline. Cal didn't stop though. He asked and asked, knowing all the answers after having spent the night studying Jenkins's bio. Every now and then, he'd suddenly ask, "Who's the copycat?"

At one point, Jenkins's eyes drifted to stare out of the cube, and he asked, "Who's the girl?"

Cal looked over to glare at Torres, who was sitting outside next to Loker, and she sat up straight when his eyes met hers, looking caught out. He got to his feet, and gestured for her to meet him outside the door, before striding out.

"You're a distraction," he said, his anger genuine due to residual feelings from his argument with Gillian.

"I had to ask Loker a question," she said defensively, before adding in annoyance, "And you've got me reading all this fan mail."

They bickered angrily, as Torres insisted that she should be allowed to watch, and Cal retorted that her education came second to the missing victim. Which was when Torres snapped, "Or you just don't want me to see that you're struggling."

Cheeky little thing.

"Oh, that's an interesting theory," he said sarcastically. "_But_ incorrect. And that fan mail you're so disdainful of? The guy we're looking for is in there somewhere, and that's a fact, not a theory, so go find him."

Torres gave him the kind of defiant look Emily would have thrown him during a fight when she knew she had to do what he said, and then turned to get back to work. Cal scowled after her, and then returned, once more, to Jenkins.

Jenkins was trying to hide his delight, as he said thoughtfully, "Mm. "Maybe you just don't want me to see that you're struggling." Huh. She's very perceptive. Your little …" and here he smirked, "_protégée_."

Cal gave him half a smirk back, eyed him for a moment, and chose not to respond.

"Who's the copycat?"

Cal continued to interrogate Jenkins in much the same manner until, out of boredom, he purposefully let slip a clue about one of his fans. From the fan mail, they tracked Milo down, but it turned out he was afraid of blood, and thus could not be the copycat. They dragged him back to the group anyway, in case he could help them, and Cal sat him in the conference room with Torres, much to her displeasure.

x x x

Gillian was having a difficult day. She had spent much of the morning sitting with Natalie Wright. The girl was barely twenty three years old, and had not only lost her sight but had been disfigured over her eyes and suffered intense emotional trauma. She was lost, afraid to accept help or sympathy from her friends and family, and convinced that nobody would ever love her.

Gillian was beginning to agree with Cal. If he needed Jenkins at the group, that was fine. If he needed to get beaten up a little for the greater good here, then so be it. If he was so distracted he forgot to notice she was in the room, she would deal. It was necessary to stop this happening to more women. She regretted arguing with him.

Feeling helpless and out of her depth, she had resorted to calling Michelle Russell, the last victim Jenkins had successfully kidnapped, raped and blinded. Michelle had agreed in no time to come and talk to Natalie, and she brought her husband, Paul, with her.

Gillian and Paul had stood outside the living room as Michelle sat and spoke to Natalie. Paul told her how proud he was of his wife. Apparently they had attended Jenkins's parole hearing a few years back, and she had been cool and calm throughout the whole thing. Paul added that he had been unable to contain his anger, and had taken a rush at the guy.

Gillian didn't blame him. Not that she was paying that much attention; her eyes were fixed on Natalie, trying to see if she was at all comforted. She seemed to have calmed down, and Gillian felt immensely relieved. Gillian was touched at the kindness of Michelle.

She shuddered at the thought of enduring something like that, shuddered at the fear and horror these women had endured. She felt nauseated, and frankly, she missed the comfort of Cal. She would apologise when she returned later, assuming that he wasn't too distracted to listen. But that was fine. He needed to be distracted.

He needed to solve this one.

x x x

Cal tried calling Gillian as he wandered the passages, but she didn't answer her cell. He considered whether she was ignoring him on purpose, but decided that it was unlikely. She didn't really function like that, especially in a situation where he may be calling for something important related to the case. Plus, she had said she would be on her cell. He assumed that she must be busy with Natalie Wright; she often put her phone on silent when in therapist mode, and he had little doubt that she was in that mode now, talking to a recent victim.

He edged into the lab when he overheard Torres and Loker voices drifting through the door. He realised they were watching the footage of him and Jenkins in the laundry room that last time. He said nothing until Torres suddenly noticed that he had given himself away very easily, and when she commented, "He _did_ screw up," he decided that it was a good time to make them aware of his presence. Besides, he had just noticed something on the film, something Torres had missed because she was so intent on watching him.

After some snarky comments to her (she really was very easy to manipulate – Gill certainly never would have fallen for it), he pointed out that the guard had panicked at the point where it seemed as though Jenkins might be about to tell Cal about the copycat.

With the help of Reynolds, they managed to locate Mr Calvo, the guard. Reynolds spent almost ten minutes yelling at him before Cal stepped in and pointed out that the guard was ashamed. That he may know something, but he most certainly wasn't the copycat. After some of his best efforts at being convincing (Gillian would have been far more successful), Cal eventually managed to convince Reynolds to let him talk to the guard.

It wasn't long before he had established that the guard had been delivering letters from Jenkins to the copycat because Jenkins had threatened to kill his daughters. He also revealed that he had never met the copycat, but had left the letters under a trash can at Grand Park. Reynolds was on the phone in an instant, ordering a surveillance team for the park.

Calvo was looking horribly remorseful, and whispered "I'm so sorry," while avoiding their eyes. Reynolds told Calvo that he would put him and his whole family in protective custody that very day. That seemed to be the last straw for Calvo, because he suddenly looked desperate and as though he wanted to cry.

After shaking his head helplessly, he finally said, "He gave me another letter today, man."

Cal sat up straight.

"He gave you a letter today?" he demanded. "While you were here?"

"Nah, it couldn't be," objected Reynolds. "We were watching him every second-"

"No cameras in your bathroom, man!" said Calvo, with desperate emphasis.

"That was hours ago," said Cal, his voice rising slightly. He wasn't sure why, but this gave him a very bad feeling. He had been pissing Jenkins off, and suddenly Jenkins had delivered a letter to the copycat. While the copycat already had a victim. This would have been a direct play against Cal.

"I'm sorry," Calvo whispered again, looking very miserable.

"Yeah, get a unit over to Grand Park right now!" Reynolds suddenly barked into his cell phone. "And if anybody even goes near a trash can, you grab 'em, you understand me?"

Cal, meanwhile, accessed the video feed into the cube, and spoke into the mike at Jenkins.

"Hey, Jenkins? Jenkins."

Jenkins looked into the camera with interest.

"We got Calvo now," Cal told him, hoping to get a clue as to what he was hoping to achieve with this one. "We know about the letter. And we are going to find your little friend."

Looking completely unphased, Jenkins said pleasantly, "Good reading, that letter. Might have mentioned a friend of yours."

Cal went cold. As though someone had emptied a bucket of ice water through his insides.

For a moment he just sat there, frozen in shock, as that asshole smirked at him. Then he leaped to his feet and bolted from the room.

"Gillian," he choked at Reynolds, who had caught up with him in the hall seconds later.

"Let's go," said the agent without a trace of hesitation, and they sprinted down the passage and out of the building to his car. Cal tried calling Gillian again on the way down, but there was still no answer and Cal's heart sank.

Reynolds drove like a lunatic, but it seemed to Cal that they were going at snail's pace. He yelled at Reynolds to hurry the hell up, but Reynolds ignored him and focussed on the road, which was probably for the best. But Cal was in a state of panic. He shifted back and forth in his seat and swore periodically, hating how helpless he was in that moment. Why had he let her go out alone?

Never in his life had he felt so terrified. And this from a man who had spent his life pissing off terrorists and underground gamblers and street gangs and very powerful politicians. But never had he feared for his own life the way he now feared for Gillian's safety.

They may already be too late.

He tried to hold back the urge to be sick as images of Gillian being tortured and assaulted threatened to engulf his mind. For God's sake, they needed to _hurry up_!

He swore loudly at Reynolds who snapped tensely, "Shut up, Lightman, I'm going as fast as I can!"

When, what felt like hours later, they skidded into the street of Natalie Wright, Cal's heart nearly stopped at the sight of Gillian being dragged along the ground by a figure clad in black. He almost fell out of the car, yelling, and Reynold's was already sprinting beside him.

The perpetrator started, let go of Gillian and made a break for it, Reynolds hot on his heels. But Cal couldn't care less about him. All that filled his mind at that point was Gillian's cries of terror as he tore to her side as fast as he absolutely could. The relief hadn't hit him yet. He was still frightened out of his mind.

He reached her, collapsing at her side in a second, and she gave a screech of fright as he grabbed her. She obviously hadn't quite comprehended what was happening just yet.

"Woah," he said, trying to get a hold of her as she struggled.

As soon as she realised it was him, she turned into his arms and clutched him tightly, sobbing, "I didn't – I didn't see him," as though she thought it was her fault. Cal gripped her tightly to his chest, never wanting to let go, his heart clenching uncomfortably inside him.

"S'okay, darling, you're safe. I've got you," he muttered, but he knew that not even he could hide the fear in his voice. He readjusted his grip on her so that she was sitting and leaning against his chest as he held her. He noticed her wincing when she moved her arm, and asked, "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head, and then seemed to pause and consider it, tears still leaking out of her eyes.

"I guess my arm hurts," she said after a pause. "And I - I think I hit my head."

"Right, I'll call an ambulance," he said, but she objected at once.

"I don't need an ambulance!"

"You're hurt, Gill, you need to go to a hospital," he said firmly.

"I'm fine," she said, and tried moving her arm to prove it, but she winced.

At that point Reynolds reappeared beside them, saying bitterly, "He got away from me. I've called for backup though." He crouched down, and said to Gillian, "You all right?"

She nodded, but Cal spoke over her, saying, "He hurt her arm, and she hit her head."

"I'll call an ambulance," said Reynolds, whipping out his phone.

"No," said Gillian again. "I don't need an ambulance."

There was a pause as the two men exchanged a glance, and then Reynolds said to Cal, "Look, take my keys, and drive her to a hospital. I'll get a ride with someone else once they've arrived."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll call you to let you know what's happening."

x x x

Gillian wasn't sure why she was so against calling an ambulance. All she knew was that she was feeling embarrassed and stupid, and calling for emergency transport just felt so dramatic. So unnecessary.

Reynolds's suggestion was far better. So she allowed Cal to help her to her feet and guide her to the passenger seat of Reynolds's car. Once he had helped her buckle herself in, he paused and looked at her, before leaning forward and giving her a tender, almost desperate kiss. It made the last of her tears stop, because she suddenly felt warmer and calmer and relieved to have him nearby.

They didn't speak much in the car. Cal's hand lay on her leg for much of the drive, but he seemed hesitant to look at her. Or it may have just been that she was afraid to look at him.

God, she felt so stupid.

She placed her good hand on his hand, and he twisted to grip it tightly.

She said, "Thanks for ..." and hesitated, because although she was so grateful that he had shown up in the nick of time, she knew he wouldn't appreciate her thanks.

As she expected, he scowled and shook his head before mumbling, "I should've seen it coming sooner."

She sighed. They were both feeling like idiots, and logically she knew they shouldn't. A flash of memory hit her, the strong hands grabbing her, her sudden terror as she knew who it was, knew what was going to happen, knew she wouldn't be able to get away ... And she gave a shudder.

He glanced at her as he parked, and she noticed that they had reached the hospital. He helped her out and led her into Emergency. They efficiently whipped her into their clutches, so that in a moment Cal was gone, and she was being tended to by various nurses, and then an earnest young doctor.

They examined and cleaned her small wounds, X-rayed her arm and tested her cognitive function. They informed her that she wasn't concussed, and that it looked as though her wrist had been sprained. They put it in a sling, told her to rest it for a few days and then went to fetch Cal. The whole process took less than an hour, but it felt like forever.

She felt exhausted, and suddenly remembered that she hadn't had any sleep the previous night. No wonder she felt so awful. She looked up to see Cal approach the window to her room, and peer inside at her. At the sight of him, she felt her face soften into a small smile. He opened the door, and stepped inside.

He seemed to attempt a light tone as he said, "Ooh, you look good in black and blue."

She managed to smile, before pointing out, "Yeah, well, we're quite the pair."

He gave an almost smile of his own, but couldn't seem to hold it there.

"Reynolds had a team scour the area," he told her, "but he was gone." She gave a nod, and almost as the question formed in her mind, Cal explained, "Jenkins was instructing him, he was passing him notes through one of the guards."

The comprehension dawned over her, and she said in realisation, "I told you I was going to Natalie's house right outside the door to the cube, he must've heard us."

Cal nodded glumly, and then sat down beside her on her bed as he gave a heavy sigh. Then he looked directly into her eyes and said sincerely, "I'm sorry, love."

It was funny how angry she could get with him when he put himself in danger, but couldn't bear to blame him for this, not even a little bit. It had been for a purpose.

"He wouldn't've gone this far unless you were under his skin," she pointed out.

"Not worth it."

After everything he had gone through, after all the planning, the distraction, the obsession ... And in a moment he had decided to drop it for her sake. She smiled, and asked quietly, "You get hit and it's okay, I get hit and suddenly it's time to throw in the towel?"

He gave a very tiny smile, his eyes holding a hint of pride in her, but she could see that his answer was "yes" even though he didn't say a word. Really, that was so very Cal. His own safety may take a backseat to protecting the innocent, but nothing came second to the safety of those he loved. He shuffled closer to her and wrapped his arms carefully around her. She leaned her head down so it was resting on his shoulder, her nose pressed against his neck, and she could feel him turning his face into her hair.

"You gotta spend some time with one of these victims," she said softly against his skin, "and … then you tell me it's not worth it."

There was silence from him, and she knew he was feeling torn. At that moment, his phone rang. He shifted so that he could take it out, but still kept an arm around her.

"It's Torres," he informed her as he flipped it open. "Hey," he added into the phone.

She pressed closer to him, craving his warmth, and she could hear Torres asking about her over the phone. Cal assured her that she was okay.

Then Torres began talking, and although Gillian couldn't hear everything, she got the point, which was that Torres wanted Michelle to speak to Jenkins.

"Absolutely not!" Cal snapped firmly, and Gillian was relieved. She didn't hear what Torres said next, but Cal's response was surprising.

"Oh, what, so you think you can get more out of him than I can?" he sneered sarcastically into the phone. "That it? You're pretty confident, aren't you?"

Gillian pulled away slightly so that she could see Cal's face as Torres objected.

"He'll demolish you. Forget it," said Cal dismissively, and hung up without waiting for a response.

"What was that about?" Gillian asked him. Sure, he had treated Torres with less than obvious respect many times before, but he seemed to be blatantly goading her, challenging her. It was for a reason, she was sure, and she suddenly began to suspect that it had something to do with the plan he hadn't shared with her.

He turned and watched her think, and finally said, "All right. I need to tell you something."

"Okay."

"But, Gill, it's really important that once I explain to you, you stay away from him ... He can't know."

She nodded. She had no desire to be anywhere near Jenkins anyway. Besides, she was pleased he was finally going to tell her. It was more normal for her to know.

Cal gazed at her, and said, "Come on, I'll explain on the way home.

x x x

Once he had taken Gillian to his place, and settled her on the couch with a blanket, some hot chocolate and the television on, Cal returned to the Group. He imagined that Torres had managed to bring in Michelle Russell by then, and he was right.

He busted in on the interview, glowered at Torres and gently helped Michelle out of the cube. He then dragged Torres out and yelled at her in front of the open door. He didn't think he had ever yelled so loudly. But it was easy enough, because his chest was in fact bubbling with intense fury for what had almost happened to Gillian.

"Now get back to work! GET BACK TO WORK!" he finished, and Torres bolted away. He stormed back into the cube, and slammed the door behind him.

"Spicy, that one," grinned Jenkins.

In that moment, Cal hated him more than he ever had.

"You know," he said coldly, "the attack on my colleague was, uh … stupid."

"Your _lover, _you mean."

"You played your hand. Failed, by the way."

"If at first you don't succeed, try and try again," smirked Jenkins. "You're still learning that one."

Cal's blood was boiling, and he felt himself get more angry, if that was possible. And he felt afraid, because he had left Gillian alone.

"But you're not just mad at me about your girlfriend, are you?" continued Jenkins. "You're mad at her. Your protégée. She showed you up."

The man's face … smug, grinning … Almost got Gillian taken … It was too much.

Cal upended the table, which was great, because it helped relieve some of his sincere rage for Gillian, but made Jenkins think it was because of Torres. He stormed out, intending to head straight back home, and came across Reynolds and Torres, who held out a picture of a dead Camille.

Good timing. He was really beginning to like Reynolds.

He told them that he wasn't going to talk to Jenkins again until the morning. He then asked Torres why she wasn't in the conference room reading fan mail, and before she could answer, he turned on his heel and left.

He was going home to Gillian right now.

x x x

She was asleep on the couch, which he thought was unsurprising. He was exhausted, too, and he slipped onto the couch beside her, lifting her legs so that he could sit where they had been and lay them on his lap. He relaxed back into the cushions and gazed blearily at the TV, which was still on and was playing some kind of sit com.

He was unconscious in seconds.

He was prodded awake some time later, and it took a monumental effort to unstick his eyelids. The living room was dark, the TV was off, and Gillian was sitting beside him, whispering his name. He lifted his head from the awkward position it had been in before, and felt his neck object.

"Hey, we should go to bed," she was saying. He wondered how long they had been on the couch.

"M'kay," he mumbled, trying to sit up properly, but his head kind of just fell forwards into his hands. He needed a break.

"I'm sorry I got so angry earlier."

It took a couple of seconds for that to penetrate his brain, and then he finally managed to sit up and look at her. She was looking ashamed, and anxious.

"You had every right," he said.

"Still, I should've known that you knew what you were doing."

He supposed that that was why he had felt so angry at her. But thinking back, he remembered that she hadn't lost her faith at him. She had been angry because Jenkins was there, and she didn't understand why.

"Stop apologising, my darling," he said at last. "It's not as though I gave you any indication-"

"But I know you, I know you wouldn't've brought him in for no reason-"

"I know you do. He's a creep, Gill. I don't blame you for not wanting him around."

She chewed doubtfully on her lip, so he gave her a kiss on the cheek, and said, "I think we both just need to sleep."

She nodded slowly in agreement, and they both eased to their feet and tottered upstairs to bed. Neither had the energy to talk much anymore, and so they merely exchanged affectionate smiles before collapsing into bed, and falling asleep.

x x x

Cal had eventually suggested to Gillian that she come in that morning.

"I thought you wanted me to stay away from Jenkins," she objected.

"I do," he said. "But I don't want to leave you alone."

She realised he was afraid for her safety, and she supposed it was with good reason.

"Just don't let him see you," said Cal with a shrug.

Gillian hesitated. In truth, she wanted to be as far away from Jenkins as humanly possible. On the other hand, she wanted to be near Cal, for no reason other than that they would both feel more comfortable that way.

"C'mon, Gill, I'm not leaving you alone," he said firmly, moving to stand in front of her. She leaned into him, and they stood that way for a while.

Then she sighed and said gloomily, "Yeah, I know."

She went in with Cal, but snuck in the back way so that nobody would see her. If Jenkins saw their reactions to her, it would be just as bad as if actually saw her. Cal headed straight for the cube once he had summoned the staff, and once they were all settled, Gillian edged over to stand just outside the doorway to listen.

"The attack on Gillian …" she heard Cal saying thoughtfully, "was predictable, I should've seen that coming."

"Can't always be one step ahead," she heard Jenkins say, and she could hear his enjoyment.

Cal skillfully edged the conversation to Torres and how she was getting the better of him, and said vaguely to Jenkins, "I suppose your protégée wouldn't act out like that, right?"

"He's comparing me to the copycat!" snapped Torres crossly, and Gillian smiled to herself.

"Short leash," said Jenkins. "That's the key."

Oh, Cal was setting this up so well. Gillian felt that pride in him stir inside her again.

"When I first met Torres, she was screening carry-ons at the airport for twelve bucks an hour," said Cal gloomily. "Now barely four months later, she's breaking up with me."

"Maybe she likes me better," grinned Jenkins.

"Nah, I'm not talking about romance, here," said Cal dismissively.

"Right, Foster's your girl. Where is she anyway?"

Ignoring that very well, Cal continued smoothly, "It's the third phase of the mentor-protégée relationship. The separation. Phase one: initiation, establishing shared interests."

"Like falling in love," agreed Jenkins, before adding, "Did you and Foster go through that, Lightman?"

He was trying very hard to get to Cal in every possible way, and while Cal was unshakeable, Gill was feeling decidedly nettled.

"Phase two's even better," Cal continued, seemingly still entirely unphased. "Mutual growth. High productivity. Could go on for years." He paused here, and then added quietly, "And then one day, the protégée surpasses the mentor."

There was a silence, and Gillian assumed Cal had produced the picture of Camille's dead body. That thought was confirmed when Cal clinched it by saying softly, "He closed."

Jenkins was silent as Cal continued, pushing all Jenkins's buttons superbly, "The murder's all over the news. He's even got a nickname. He's the Capital Killer. He's more famous than you are now."

Reynolds suddenly spoke into Jenkins's silence, asking if they knew the photos were faked. The shock hit them all, and Gillian smiled to herself as the truth washed over Torres.

"Lightman knew it from the beginning," she exclaimed in disbelief. "It was all set up. He planned the whole thing. All of it. Even letting Jenkins see through him at the prison."

"Yeah, he set up a false power dynamic to build Jenkins's confidence, lower his defences," said Loker in dawning comprehension, and sounding impressed.

"Lightman played me too, he pushed me to disobey him because he knew it would trigger Jenkins."

Torres sounded utterly floored, and angry, and Gillian felt this was a good time to step in. It was safe now. The game had been played.

"The long con," she said softly from the door, and they all whipped around to face her. "One of Cal's favourite moves."

"You knew?" demanded Torres, and Gillian could see that she was upset by the notion.

"No idea," she said with a kind smile.

Somewhat reassured, Torres turned back to face the cube, saying in awe, "He is scary good."

Gillian smiled again, because Torres had no idea.

Things from there went fairly smoothly. Shaken, but trying to keep cool, Jenkins accidently let slip that his relationship with the copycat had started four years before. The year of his parole hearing. They watched the film of the hearing that had been taken by Milo the fan, and saw Michelle Russell's husband Paul attack Jenkins, as he said he had. Only the anger he displayed was fake. And there was adulation.

He was the copycat.

They high tailed it to Michelle's house, only to discover that Paul wasn't there. Breaking the news to Michelle typically fell on Gillian, and she loathed it. Loathed the betrayal, the sickening horror of the truth … As if Michelle hadn't been through enough.

Shaken, Michelle willingly told them where Paul's real estate listings were kept and Reynolds narrowed them down to the most likely one. The correct one, as it turned out, because Cal called and told her that they had rescued Camille and arrested Paul. Gillian had stayed behind with Michelle. Stayed because she couldn't help but feel ever so slightly responsible for Michelle's current grief.

It was illogical, she knew, but if not for them, she would not be going through this now. But better she knows, thought Gillian. So she can heal. _She'd _want to know. She knew that, because knowing about Alec's cocaine problem had helped her move on. She imagined if she had not known. Hadn't found out he was using again. Would she still be married and miserable?

Knowing the truth had helped her move on, and fall in love with her best friend. A man who she knew and trusted with good reason, and no trace of doubt.

Michelle deserved that too.

x x x

Cal found Torres in the cube, standing and gazing into nothingness. He had been looking for her, because he knew he owed her an explanation for everything he had put her through over the past couple of days. Especially since she had done nothing to deserve it, and had done everything to deserve better. He rapped on the glass and then strode inside to join her. She looked at him, her wide eyes baffled and reproachful.

"You used me," she said, and he could hear the tiny bit of hurt that she probably hadn't even admitted to herself.

"You made it easy."

"How did you know how to get to Jenkins?" she burst out, obviously intrigued in spite of herself.

He explained carefully, watching her.

"In prison, first time I asked him about the copycat, he showed pride. Also just the faintest hint of anger, so I knew he resented his protégée."

"Right," she murmured, sounding resentful herself. "The kind of thing only you would notice."

"Yeah, well I'm trying to teach you, love," Cal pointed out.

"You let me think that Camille was dead," Torres said angrily.

"Yeah," agreed Cal. "Yeah, I did. Couldn't afford letting anyone know that any part of this was a con, Jenkins would've read it."

"Reynolds knew."

"Only about the photograph," he assured her, and then grinned as he asked, "Are you jealous, hey? Well, no worries, not even Gill knew."

She looked at him then, and looked oddly vulnerable, before asking softly, "How long till we break up for real?"

Cal hid his smile, because in spite of himself, Torres had grown on him. And he was pleased, flattered even, to have somehow earned her trust and respect.

"Eons," he told her dismissively. "You got loads to learn."

He turned and strode out then, before she read how much he had learned to care for her. People weren't supposed to know how he felt about them, especially if he cared. That was a weakness. He was her teacher. He had to be strong.

Maybe he would go home and tell Gillian, though. She was his outlet there. She would laugh at him for not wanting to tell Torres, but too bad. He went via his office, though, to tell Reynolds that he was now effectively working for Cal. Reynolds was greatly unimpressed, but Cal was adamant. Without Reynolds, things could have gone horribly wrong. Cal had not met an agent he felt he could count on before now.

He wasn't letting this one go. He needed someone around to protect his staff. To protect Gillian.

x x x

He picked Gillian up from Michelle Russell's house, and took her back to his place. They sat close together and ate takeout chicken chow mein and shrimp fried rice, and revelled quietly in the success of the case.

"You were amazing," Gillian told him, and he smiled to himself. "I'm so proud."

"Well, thank you."

"Torres was blown away, too," she added, and Cal glanced over with interest.

"Yeah? She seemed more pissed than anything."

"Do you blame her?" Gillian asked him, laughter in her eyes. She reached over to brush a piece of rice from his lip into his mouth.

"Nah, not really."

He paused, and then added, "I think she was hurt I used her."

"Of course she was," said Gillian quietly. "She wants you to respect her. She looks up to you so much. You must have noticed."

"Yeah, I have," he agreed, and then, smiling at himself, he said, "It's flattering."

Gillian looked delighted, and he vowed not to say another word on the matter.

"I think it's natural," she said, beaming at him.

"I'm even more flattered you feel that way," he told her, his tone light, but his meaning sincere.

She scoffed at him, and turned back to her food. He watched her, and debated telling her how flattered he was that she ever even looked in his direction, let alone respected, trusted and loved him. Gillian Foster, beautiful, intelligent, kind … She could have anyone in the world, and she chose him. Occasionally it still hit him as hard as it had the first time they had confessed their feelings for each other.

What he settled on was, "How'd I get so lucky, anyway?" because it got the point across without overdoing it. He was feeling sentimental right now. Almost losing her did that to him.

She glanced over and, smiling, said, "You must have done something good … you know, somewhere in your youth or childhood."

Right. Sound of Music. She was a sucker for that movie, so he had seen it far too many times for his liking.

He rolled his eyes, and said, "Nope, that's definitely not it."

She giggled, and bumped him with her good shoulder, and he bumped back, smiling down into his food.

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** It was a bit tough to do this one, because I felt like I had to include a lot from the episode (especially in the beginning) in order to catch the tone properly, especially for any of you who haven't seen the episode recently. For those more familiar, I hope it wasn't too repetitive, and that you enjoyed it. Thanks very much for reading!


	14. 113 Sacrifice

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**Chapter 14: Sacrifice**

Terrorism.

This he could do. This was his specialty.

Cal was confident and determined. And so he thoroughly enjoyed pissing off anyone who got in his way, much, he knew, to Gillian's irritation. So he sent her off to work with Torres at the mosque while he antagonised FBI bureaucrats, ranging from Reynolds to the Deputy Director, to his heart's content. The fault with this plan, as he realised almost as soon as she had driven away, was that now she wasn't in his sight anymore. It made him uneasy. Not that there was much he'd be able to do if a bomb went off, but being near her in a time of danger always made him feel more relaxed.

After the second bomb (which had stopped his heart for an instant until he discovered it was at some mall in Virginia) Cal returned to the offices after interrogating the FBI's suspect, to find Zoe and Emily in his reception. Zoe informed him that she had to go in to work, and she needed him to look after Emily. That thought made him uncomfortable; the Department of Justice was a target, but Zoe was determined.

In spite of that, it was a relief to be near Emily again, and a relief to know Gillian was somewhere in the building. He was heading for her office when he spotted Torres huddled in a corner, staring out the window. He changed direction slightly, directly passing Gillian's door, and went to stand with Torres.

"Don't beat yourself up over this, all right?" he suggested in as kind a voice as he could muster. Kindness didn't come naturally to him, at least not the way it came to Gillian.

Torres eyed him, full of doubt and guilt. "I talked to the second bomber three hours before he went into that mall," she said softly. "He killed thirteen people. I looked right at him and I didn't see anything. I completely missed him." Here she looked regretfully at Cal, and added, "You know, you would've seen it. You could've stopped this."

This was a bad state of mind for her to be in, completely unproductive, so he quickly sifted through the things he could say to console her. He wasn't particularly good at that either, so he reached a decision to just share a past anecdote with her.

"All right," he said matter-of-factly. "1986, I'm in Belfast for the British. I let go of a man, that night he walks into a pub, he shoots six people. Three of them dead."

Torres stared at him, clearly taken aback by the upfront nature of that summary.

"How'd he get by you?" she asked.

"Sometimes they just do," he said with a shrug, trying not to let her see how it had torn him apart at the time. That wouldn't help. "I need you focussed, love," he said instead.

"Yeah," she mumbled, and headed off.

He frowned slightly as he watched her go, and then went to Gillian's office. She wasn't in there, so he turned to see if she was in the lab. As he rounded the corner, he almost bumped into her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Hey."

He could see the relief in her eyes too, and kissed her quickly.

"Hello."

"Torres is upset," she told him, and he nodded.

"Yeah, I know, I just talked to her."

An apprehensive look crossed Gillian's face, and he almost smiled. "I was nice, relax," he said, and she looked a bit sheepish. At that point, Deputy Director showed up, calling to him. Gillian glanced over her shoulder, and told him that she would be in her office.

Poor Deputy Director. Cal had pretty much beaten all her authority out of her by the time the call about Dupree came. Missing Dupree.

The first thing he did was dial all the most powerful contacts he could think of, asking them to do everything in their power to locate Dupree.

The second thing he did was go to Gillian. Because he needed to talk to her about this. He felt panicky. He didn't know Dupree very well, but the guy showed up at the office every now and then, and it wasn't as though you needed to be an expert in micro-expressions to see how he and Torres felt about each other. Plus, Cal liked him. A rare state for him to be in. So he needed to talk to Gillian about what he was leaning towards doing about it.

x x x

Gillian was perched on the edge of her desk, watching a news report on the second bombing, when Cal walked in.

"Hey," she said, and then noticed that he seemed upset. "What?"

"I got a call from the Secret Service."

She frowned thoughtfully, and guessed, "Are they worried about the White House?"

"No," said Cal dismissively, as though he didn't give a flying toss about the White House, which was probably true. "Uh, Dupree's unaccounted for."

"What?" she said, as the truth of that hit her. Surely not … "Wha- Torres's boyfriend?"

Cal nodded, and sat down, and she moved to sit on the small coffee table in front of him.

" FBI heard chatter that malls were being targeted," Cal explained quietly, and she could see that he was disturbed. "Secret Service was sent in to co-ordinate security after the first bomb."

"And he was there," she breathed.

"He was there, or he was on his way there, it's unclear. Either way, he hasn't called in since the blast."

She swallowed, nervously, but nodded in determination as she stood up and said, "All right, I'll tell her."

"Hey, hey," said Cal, holding out a hand to stop her.

"What?" she asked, confused and sitting down again. She had assumed that was why he had come to her. It was an unwritten part of her job description that she was the one to break bad news to their staff. Or clients. Or pretty much anybody that Cal didn't want specifically to offend with such news.

"I don't think we should."

That stopped all thought patterns as she stared at him in disbelief.

"Cal-" she began warningly.

"She interviewed the mall bomber and she missed him," Cal said gently.

"She's not responsible!"

"She thinks she is," Cal pointed out, staring at her meaningfully, his eyes begging her to understand. "She thinks she killed those people. You want her to think her boyfriend was one of them?"

"She'd wanna know!" objected Gillian, feeling angry now. "I'd wanna know if it were you!"

"I got calls in to the director of the FBI, the head of the ATF, their people are canvassing the hospitals. There's nothing that she can do right now."

It seemed he was ignoring her point. She was feeling very upset, more upset than she would have thought. How could he just decide this?

"_You'd_ wanna know if it were me! Or if it were Emily!"

Cal glared at her then, and she knew it was because he knew she was right. He would probably beat the shit out of anyone who would keep that kind of information from him.

"We need her focussed," was what he said, his voice firm.

She was about to object more, mainly because she could see that she had hit a nerve, and she could see that he wasn't entirely sure of himself. But then Torres poked her head in, saying "Hey, you ready to go?"

For a moment Gillian sat there, frozen, her eyes locked on Cal's. His face was clearly imploring her to do as he had asked. Damn him, and the bullshit sense of loyalty she felt for him. She felt that this was wrong with every fibre of her being, but she couldn't just go against him. He gave her a small grateful smile, and she realised that he had seen her acquiescence before she had even known it was there.

"Fine," she snapped at him, partially because she _was_ annoyed, and partially to redirect Torres's suspicions. She knew she was a bad liar, so she needed Torres to attribute any signs she may leak to an argument with Cal.

She got up, snatched her bag off her desk, and stalked out to interview the second bomber's family, Torres in tow.

x x x

After Gillian left, Cal felt less than cheerful. She was right, of course, but so was he. He knew that he needed Torres to be as focussed as possible right now, but … If it were Gillian who was missing? Yeah, he'd absolutely kill anyone who would keep that from him. It was the thought of how he'd feel if it were Gillian more than anything that compelled him to call Zoe for help. He tended to avoid initiating contact with her if he could. Things were still a bit uncomfortable after her last visit.

So when he finally found a moment, he called her. She agreed to check at once, to his relief, and he found himself adding nervously, "And you're leaving soon, aren't you? No coffee stops, no supermarkets, just stay out of the capital, all right?"

"You always did have a funny way of saying I love you."

He froze slightly, but supposed it wasn't a complete lie. He may not be in love with her anymore, but a part of him would always love her. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and she said, "Sorry."

It had probably been some kind of reflex comment, so he muttered, "It's fine. See you soon."

And he hung up before turning to Emily. She was curled up on a couch in his library, fast asleep. He approached her, and gently eased her awake, asking if she was all right. She said she was, and he felt as though he could stay here with her all day. Unfortunately Loker chose that moment to call him to watch the videos of the suicide bombers before the bombs had gone off.

When he made it into the lab, he noticed that Gillian was there. He went to stand beside her, but she ignored him. Oh, well. They turned to focus on the videos, and realised that the so called suicide bombers were showing none of the traits that would have been expected. Gillian added that Rasheed, at least, hadn't fit the profile. Cal stared at the screen and finally said, "These are the faces of innocents. Not suicide bombers."

Of course this changed everything. Deputy Director shot off to make a call. Gillian vanished too, without a word. Cal and Reynolds went to his office to discuss the changes. Cal left his office after Reynolds had bolted out to do what he did best, and headed over to Gillian's. He found her and Torres standing outside her door, as she tried to explain to Torres that she hadn't missed the guy after all. Torres, however, was convinced that she had missed something, missed the person who had put the bomb on Rasheed.

"Oh, you didn't miss anything," said Cal with light confidence.

Torres looked closely at him, as though she was almost tempted to believe him. But she didn't.

"We need to look harder at the mosque," said Gillian, after glancing at Cal, and he knew she wanted to talk to him privately. He didn't doubt what about, and his heart sank slightly as he prepared for a second argument.

When Torres didn't move, he added firmly, "Go look at the tape."

Torres glowered at them, and stormed off.

Gillian glared at Cal, and then walked past him into his library as she asked coldly, "Any word on Dupree?"

"No, nothing yet," he said, following her. "We'll tell her when we know something new."

She stopped in front of the little staircase in his library, and turned to him as she objected, "Well, she knows she's not responsible for the second bombing now."

He felt uncomfortable. This was different from the usual disagreements they tended to have. She was taking this one very personally, and he knew he wasn't going to get off lightly as he said, "No, we've had two bombs in a day, more are likely. She's one of the few people who can actually help find these guys." Gillian sat back on one of the steps, and glared at him. He added the thing that he had recently convinced himself of. "The most productive thing she can do for Dupree, she's doing."

She bristled at him, and snapped, "Oh, I see. The whole greater good thing. Who cares about people's _feelings_, or what's right in the face of productivity? That's a bit too utilitarian, even for you, Cal!"

He hated this. He hated that she hated him in this moment. He hated that he was forcing her to be on his side, when he knew she wasn't. But for God's sake, she was acting as though she thought he was doing this for _fun_ or something. So he moved to stand right in front of her, his hands on the railings on either side of her, leaning down, and said quietly, intensely, "I don't _want_ to lie to her, Gill. You're right. If it were me, I'd want to know. If it were you, I'd want you to know."

He paused, because he realised that he was showing her all his regret, all his indecision, and he could see the surprise in her eyes.

"But this is important, and if I have to be the bad guy here, then so be it."

He spoke firmly, and stared her down. She swallowed, clenched her jaw slightly, and finally said, "I don't agree with this."

"I know you don't. I'm sorry."

He didn't tend to apologise much, but this time he had to. Because he was asking her to go against what she felt was right, for him. And he wasn't going to change his mind. And she would do it for him if he asked her to.

She stared at him, and finally muttered, "Kay."

It was a disgruntled mutter, giving in, but not by any means less angry about it. She stood up, her body pressing up against his so that he had to stand upright again. They stood there for a few moments, pressed up close, staring at each other and accepting that they weren't going to agree. It was foreign, being so much on opposite sides, and Cal felt distanced. He hated that too.

So he kissed her, longing for contact. She kissed back almost resignedly, but after a moment pulled back. She sighed, and muttered, "I'd want to know if it were you, Cal."

Here she gently pushed him back a step so that she could get out from in front of the stairs, and walk out. He watched her go, and felt guilty at the pain and fear he heard in her voice. That was why it was so personal. She was imagining it to be him.

x x x

Gillian was in the lab when her phone rang. It was Cal, and she sighed before answering.

"Hey."

"They found Dupree," he told her, and her heart leapt. "He was stuck in an elevator at the mall, and he's unconscious but alive. He's at Virginia Metropolitan. Torres is on her way there now."

He spoke robotically, as though he needed to get the information across to her, not quite knowing where they stood. She was relieved, though. Relieved that they had found him, that he was alive, and that Torres knew.

"You going there too?" she asked him.

"No, gave her my car."

Well, right there she felt as though she had fallen in love with him all over again.

"That – was nice of you."

"Hm, rare, I know," he teased, and she could hear the slight relief at her comment.

"I didn't mean-"

"It's all right, love."

"Thanks for telling me."

"We friends again?"

He tried to sound light hearted, but she knew how much he meant the question.

"We're always friends," she said softly, and then added, "I'm going there, too."

Here he paused, and she wondered what the problem was. Finally he merely said, "Be safe," and she realised he didn't want her leaving the building.

"You, too," she said firmly.

x x x

She walked into the right passage in time to see Dupree being wheeled out of a room, Torres at his side. Gillian looked into his face, and felt a wave of nausea. What if that had been Cal? She didn't know why she was so terrified of the thought, but somehow knowing that it had hit Torres's man … made more real the possibility that it could hit hers.

"How's he doing?" she asked Torres once he had been wheeled away.

"He's got blood in his brain," said Torres. She looked and sounded distraught. "A haematoma. He was in an elevator for four hours. Nobody knew where he was," she finished bitterly, and Gillian felt guilt wash over her.

"What was that?" Torres asked her, frowning.

Several swear words flew through Gillian's brain, because she knew she was caught. "What?" she said anyway.

"That look." Her voice was becoming dangerous, and her face darkened as comprehension dawned over her. "Did you _know_? You knew he was missing?"

Gillian fought for the right thing to say. How could she defend this when she didn't even believe in it? She tried for one of Cal's arguments, saying, "There was nothing you could've done," but it came out weak and unconvincing.

"Nothing _I_ could have done."

Torres was staring incredulously at her, and Gillian murmured gently, "Ria …"

"Oh, wait wait wait," interrupted Torres, clearly reading her shame. "I see, I see, okay. It wasn't- it wasn't you, was it? Lightman decided not to tell me."

Again, Gillian tried desperately to explain Cal's reasoning, stuttering out, "Everything possible was – was being done to find Dupree and Cal relies on you-"

"I don't believe this, I really don't," said Torres, glaring at Gillian. "Lightman plays God, and you make excuses for him."

"Ria-"

"You leave me the hell alone."

Torres stormed off, and Gillian felt desperately miserable. It wasn't really fair that she was being hit with the blame here, but that was the deal when you were part of a team. One member of the team screws up, and everyone takes the hit. She and Cal were a team, so she knew this was how it had to work. But it still stung.

She went to her car, and dialled Cal's number.

"How is he?" he asked by way of answering the phone.

"Um …" What was it Torres had said? "Haematoma. They're going to operate."

"What's the matter?"

She hesitated, and then realised there were tears leaking down her cheeks. She wanted to control it, but she knew he already knew she was crying.

"Um, she knows we knew," she said shakily.

There was a pause, and she could just picture Cal shaking his head at her inability to keep a secret. She was about to speak up in her defence, but he spoke first, saying, "I'm so sorry."

Surprised, she gave a small sniff and asked, "Why?"

"Well, she's obviously pretty pissed at you, and it's not your fault."

"She knows it was you," Gillian corrected, fishing around in her glove compartment for a tissue.

"Of course she does," said Cal gently. "You'd never do something like this."

"But I did, technically," said Gillian, wiping her eyes, hoping the tears would stop soon.

"Because I made you. So, like I said, I'm sorry."

Gillian had nothing to say to that really, so she blew her nose gently, murmuring an apology of her own into the phone.

"Get back here, okay?" he said, ignoring her.

"On my way," she said, wishing she didn't have to drive to get to him.

"See you soon, darling."

x x x

When Gillian got back to the Group, Cal was just arriving back, too, with Reynolds who was lugging a large box. She held the door open for him, and Cal took her hand as they walked in behind him.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She gave him a look that said, "Not really," but then a smile saying, "I will be."

They paused in front of his office, Reynolds already having headed inside, and Cal said, "We found these tapes that some FBI agent illegally recorded conversations in the bathrooms in the mosque on."

"And we wonder why they don't like us," sighed Gillian.

Cal gave the tiniest smile of agreement, and it felt nice to be back on the same side.

"I'll be in my office, okay?" she said, because she just needed to regroup a little.

He nodded, and said, "Get me if you need me."

x x x

Emily sighed as she sauntered glumly around the hallways. She wished her parents didn't both have to be involved in this whole terrorist case, because she was stuck on her own with little else to do but worry. It would have been fine if they had just let her go to Dan's place, but whatever, they were just overly paranoid.

She turned back into the corridor with her dad's and Gillian's offices, and decided that she may as well return to the little library, the only place with anything she could do. As she drew level with Gillian's office, she glanced inside and saw Gillian sitting at her desk.

Emily felt her heart lift slightly. Gillian hadn't really been around much today and she was the one person Emily had felt like talking to, so she changed direction and knocked on her door gently, opening it as Gillian glanced up.

"Hey," said Gillian, getting to her feet at once. "How're you doing?"

"It's so crazy," sighed Emily, not feeling the need to pretend she was okay like with her father. "I mean, I heard forty people died already. And a bunch of them are my age."

"Yeah, it is," Gillian agreed, turning off the TV. "But everything's gonna be fine."

Emily felt a flash of irritation at that comment, and snapped, "No, adults always say that, but I mean … It's not fine."

She stared at Gillian, who seemed to suddenly focus on her, and Emily realised that she had been distracted. She was obviously a bit off her game, because that had, in fact, been a very un-Gillian thing to say.

"Hey, are you okay?" Emily asked her before she could say anything. "I mean, I kind of heard you and Dad arguing earlier ..."

She faltered, feeling guilty, but she had been in her father's office playing solitaire on his laptop when she had heard them in his library. She hadn't been able to hear what they had been saying, but she knew they had been having a disagreement.

Gillian looked slightly surprised, but not angry, and she said, "I'm sorry you heard that ..."

"No, I mean, it's fine," Emily objected. "People argue. I just wondered, because you look a bit upset."

She faltered again, because Gillian didn't tend to confide in her. Or in anyone other that her dad, as far as she could tell.

"Sorry if I'm being nosy," she said quickly.

"That's all right," said Gillian with one of those kind smiled that made Emily feel safe. "It's just been a stressful day, and you're right, arguing with your dad obviously doesn't help much. But we're fine now, Em, I promise."

Emily smiled too, feeling better. She hadn't been frightfully worried; she of all people recognised truly dangerous arguments, and that hadn't been one of them. But she didn't like knowing that her dad and Gill were on the outs with each other.

"That's good," she said. "You need each other on days like today."

At that point, there was a gentle knock on Gillian's door, and they both turned to see Heidi indicating towards Emily.

"Your mum's here," said Gillian, and Emily felt gloomy. Of course her mum would arrive the moment she actually found something to do. "You should pack up your stuff."

She kissed Gillian's cheek, and said, "Feel better, Gill," before turning to leave the room.

x x x

After deciding to use the tapes, Cal sent them off to be reviewed in the lab. When he decided to check on the progress a little while later, he walked in on Loker, Reynolds and Gillian, amongst others, just as the computer picked up on an argument, a voice yelling out, "It's unacceptable! Completely unacceptable! People who do things like this must be punished!"

Cal watched Gillian as she listened intently. She had clearly recognised the voice.

"Stress is up on all the negative words, and you hear that vocal tremor?" Loker was saying. "That could be repulsion or disgust."

"And how the hell are we supposed to match a voice with a name?" demanded Reynolds irritably.

"Well, Gillian never forgets a voice," said Cal, smiling warmly at her.

For the first time that day, her eyes twinkled at him, and she said pointedly to Reynolds, "Some of us are just better at listening than others."

"Thank you," Cal grunted, suppressing a smile. This was more normal.

Once she told them it was Rasheed's father, they had him at the Group almost instantly. Horrified, he realised that his nephew was behind the bombings, and that was more or less that.

As soon as it was all over, Cal headed out to see Torres at the hospital. Gillian had offered to join him, but he had declined, telling her he'd meet her at her place later. She didn't need the anger Torres had likely been cultivating all afternoon.

Of course, Torres had been furious, and it had taken a fair amount of snark and lecturing to talk her down before he had stormed off. This was the problem with youth, he thought. Nothing was more important than themselves.

There was a reason Gillian "indulged" him, as Torres had accused in disgust. She trusted him to do the right thing. She trusted in his judgment, even when she didn't agree with it. The only one who trusted him so unconditionally, the only one who ever had.

She understood the point. And that was why they were partners. Not business partners. Partners in life.

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed that, thanks for reading :-)


	15. 201 The Core of It

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**Chapter 15: The Core of It**

Cal was almost happy to see Zoe while fending off Reynolds' whining about the Supreme Court nominee. As if Cal was going to waste time on something like that, something Torres could easily handle, when he could be focusing on the so-called psychic vision of a murder that Trisha Howe claimed to have had. Trying to explain this to Reynolds was turning out to be both pointless and long-winded. So when Zoe appeared in the hall, he leapt at the opportunity to end the conversation.

He was less enthused when Zoe told him that she wanted to start her own firm.

In Chicago.

And take Emily with her.

His heart sank into his shoes as he did his very best to try and be supportive. For all of five seconds. Then he began to object, to argue. How could this be okay? Just because she had the ovaries? That gave her the right to stroll into his office and inform him, not ask him, but inform him that she was taking his daughter away with her? The more those thoughts whirled around in his mind, the further down his heart sank. It would be emerging into the earth's centre at any moment now.

It certainly didn't help when Zoe began to act as though he were the one being unreasonable. Before throwing in that she knew she was being selfish, but believed this to be the right thing for Emily. She covered all her bases really. He couldn't argue. He couldn't fight that.

He was going to tell Gillian until the "psychic" girl vanished from the cube. That was enough of a distraction that he almost put his thoughts about Emily on hold. Besides, Gillian was skeptical about the whole case, so in all honesty he wasn't in the mood to include her just yet. What progressed in the case, the discovery of the extraordinarily rare case of an actual multiple personality disorder, preoccupied him enough that he actually did forget for a while. Forget to tell Gillian.

The reminder burst into his office that evening in the form of Emily herself, while Sophie, the core personality, was sitting on his sofa with Gillian. Gillian, of course, instantly took her out to give Cal and Emily some privacy, and it really only occurred to him a moment later while staring blankly at Emily, that he could have used Gillian's advice on this. But it was too late at that point.

He had been at the verge of explaining to Emily what was going on when Reynolds interrupted to inform him that they had found the body of the murder victim Trisha/Sophie had seen, and that the cops were on the way up at that moment. Cal panicked. He needed to talk to RJ, the male personality who had actually witnessed the crime, before the police got there. So he took an admittedly drastic step that resulted in Gillian not speaking to him for the rest of the night.

He couldn't say he blamed her there. While he was convinced he had done the right thing (despite it making him feel sick inside), he knew without a doubt that Gillian would see it as cruel and unnecessary. Once they had arrested the murderer, Gillian told him she was going home, and left before he could say anything. So that was that. No chance to tell Gillian anything about Zoe and Emily.

And then the idea hit him. If he just bought Zoe out, bought out her share of the Group that she had gotten in the divorce, she would be able to afford to open a firm here. She could stay. Emily could stay. The brilliance of the idea washed over him, and he wondered why it hadn't occurred to him before.

It was once he had already reached his car on his way to Zoe that it hit him. He hadn't told Gillian. Hadn't even asked her. He hesitated, and fretted for a moment in his car. But he couldn't wait. He had to talk Zoe into this _now_. And Gillian was pissed off now.

A bad time, he told himself firmly. A very bad time. Gillian would understand when he told her tomorrow. She would understand once she had cooled off.

Once he had left Zoe, both relieved and terrified, he decided he had better go over to Gillian's to make nice. Not that he wouldn't have wanted to anyway. It was more the fact that he was feeling guilty that made him more afraid to go over there than he would otherwise have been. But he forced himself to face up to it.

Gillian was already in bed with the lights out by the time he got there just after ten (he had driven around quite a bit to procrastinate). He decided to face one problem at a time. She made no move to indicate that she was either awake or aware that he was in the room. But he suspected that she was both of the above. Either way, he quietly changed into some pyjamas before slipping into bed beside her.

Her back was facing him, so he considered how best to approach the problem. Finally he shuffled closer so that his front was pressed against her back, and he hissed her name into her ear. When he got no response, he whispered, "Gill, come on, I know you're awake."

"I know," she retorted to his surprise. "But I don't really want to talk to you right now."

He sighed, and considered that, because giving her what she wanted seemed like a good move. However, it was important to him that he sorted this out properly and quickly. Or he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink.

"I didn't want to do it," he mumbled uncomfortably.

"I don't care."

"I hated doing it."

"I don't care about that either."

There was another pause as he debated his next move. Frankly, this was turning out to be more difficult than their usual disagreements, and he suspected it was because he had something else eating at his consciousness. Something she didn't even know about.

It distanced them.

He swallowed, and tried very hard to get into their usual mindset. The one of unity, even in conflict.

"What do you care about?"

"I care about Sophie."

Too late did he realise that the vulnerable girl that he had frightened almost literally out of her mind had the same name as Gillian's daughter. He wondered how aware of it she was.

"Me too, Gill. She understood afterwards. She understood."

There was a silence from Gillian.

"Gill?" he said after a while.

"I didn't like seeing that side of you, Cal," came her very quiet voice. "It frightened me."

He chewed on his lip. It was true that she had rarely seen him violent. And he knew that she had never seen him victimise an innocent before, because he didn't think he ever had.

"It wasn't really me," he reminded her gently. "It was awful, I know, but it wasn't me, Gill."

She turned over, and finally looked into his eyes, the moonlight making that possible. He saw the hesitation as she gazed at him, and knew she was looking for his personality. Reminding herself who he really was. Luckily everything he had told her was true. That hadn't been him, and he was back now. He watched and felt her relax against him, and felt relieved.

"Please promise me I'll never have to see you like that again," she said, and he realised she was crying softly.

Christ, he hated himself in that moment.

"I promise you, Gillian. I promise."

And then she hugged him close, and the relief at having her open to him again was so intense that it hit him what a bad day that day had actually been. It was really because of that that he couldn't bring himself to confess the whole Zoe thing to her until the following evening, and he had required a good helping of scotch in his office to calm his nerves before he called her in.

x x x

Gillian baked when she was angry.

And she was very angry when Cal summoned her at the end of the day to tell her that he had bought Zoe out. After yesterday, this was one of those last straw moments.

So, after she stormed out of Cal's office that evening, it was with little hesitation that she grabbed her things from her own office, stalked to her car, and drove to the nearest grocery store. She stocked up on flour, eggs, sugar and chocolate, and headed home, glugging at a bottle of chocolate milk she hadn't been able to resist.

When she got home, she changed into some flannel pyjama pants, socks and a T-shirt, turned on her stereo to blast some music, tied her hair back, and wrenched out several chocolate brownie recipes she had been meaning to try. She began to bake in a frenzied whirlwind of activity, stirring too vigorously, beating with aggression and ripping open flour and sugar packaging almost as though she was _trying_ to make a mess.

So, by the time she answered the door an hour later to find Cal staring at her with his hands in his pockets, she was covered in puffs of flour and smudges of chocolate mix, her hair slipping out of its elastic band, loud rock music blasting behind her and a heavy smell of brownies in the air.

He grinned at her.

She scowled back at him. The activity of baking was always satisfying when she was in this mood, but it hadn't quite diffused her fury. And now he was standing there _grinning_ at her.

"What?" she snapped.

"You're cute when you've been angry baking," he told her, still smirking.

"You're not gonna flirt your way out of this without an apology," she retorted irritably.

He eyed her for a few seconds, his smile fading into an earnest expression.

"I'm sorry, darling," he finally said sincerely, allowing her to see that he meant it.

She watched him suspiciously for a moment, and then, without a word, turned on her heel and stalked back inside leaving the door open for him. He followed her, closing the door behind him.

Her kitchen was in the biggest state of chaos he had ever seen it. Open bags of flour and sugar, egg shells, butter, baking powder, vanilla essence, oatmeal and chocolate were scattered over her counters. There were dirty bowls and spoons mingled in amongst the ingredients, and a couple of bowls that still had mixtures in them. Her beater and blender lay beside each other next to the plug point, cached in batter. Everything was covered in a white dust, and there were smudges of mixture on the surfaces and the floor.

On one side lay some pans of cooling brownies, next to some open recipe books that were so covered with ingredients that he wondered if she'd ever be able to read those pages again.

She was standing in front of one of the bowls, grating some chocolate into the mixture. She nodded in the direction of the microwave, and said, "Could you turn down the music?"

He glanced over, and saw a remote half buried under some baking paper on top of the microwave. He reached for it, and pointed it to the stereo that was sitting in her living area, bringing the volume down to a level where conversation was possible. Placing it back, he grabbed one of the warm brownies, sat on one of her counter stools, and watched her firm grating as he took a bite. The chocolate was melting over her warm hands, but she didn't seem to care.

When she finally glanced up at him, she wasn't surprised to see that he was eating, but she rolled her eyes anyway. He swallowed, and said, "It's good."

She merely nodded as she seized another slab of chocolate, and began to cut it into small pieces. After an extended silence during which he finished the brownie and she chopped, he finally sighed.

"I had to, Gill. It's Emily."

She closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath, and said, "That's not why I'm upset, Cal, and you know it."

He watched her chopping get slightly more aggressive, and bit back a smile. Then he sighed, and said quietly, "I know."

"You should have _talked_ -"

"I know."

She looked back up and, her voice still furious, asked, "Well, then why didn't you?"

He avoided her gaze as he admitted, "I was afraid you'd say no."

"And you think I don't have the right to say no?" she demanded.

Looking back at her, and frowning, he objected, "No, you have every right, which is why I knew if you said no, I was screwed."

"So you figured better to apologise later? That's not how it works, Cal. I'm not your mother."

He rolled his eyes, and bit back various harsh retorts about his actual mother, because he knew that wasn't remotely what she was talking about.

"We're a team," she continued. "You don't need to ask permission, but you need to include me." She frowned at him. "You really think I'd've said no?"

He looked into her eyes, and suddenly felt thoroughly ashamed of himself. Just because she had been considerably displeased with him, it certainly wouldn't have caused her to be unreasonable. Particularly not about something like this.

"No, I s'pose not. I just ... I was afraid of the conversation. And I was desperate. I can't lose Emily."

She stared back at him, and said firmly, "I would never have let you lose Emily."

There was a silence as he felt her dedication behind her words, and then he buried his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his voice muffled. "I'm a bit of an idiot sometimes, you know."

She rolled her eyes, and, scraping the chocolate chips into the mixture, muttered, "That's for sure."

He looked up at her, a slight smile on his face, as her kitchen timer went off.

"Ooh, the marshmallow ones," she said, a slight tinge of happiness in her voice, and quickly put on some oven mitts to pull them out. She placed the pan next to the other cooling brownies, and poured the mixture she had currently been working on into a new pan, before sliding it into the oven, shutting the door, and resetting the timer.

"You have a hell of a lot of pans," he observed.

"All the better to bake large batches when I'm angry, my dear."

He looked at her as she rinsed the chocolate off her hands, and asked, "Are you still angry?"

"Yes."

"Are you less angry, at least?"

She turned back to face him, wiping her hands on a dish cloth.

"I suppose so," she admitted reluctantly. "But please don't do something like this again."

"I won't," he said quickly. "I promise."

She stared at him, and he sighed again.

"You don't believe me."

After a pause, she said quietly, "No, not really. But thanks for meaning it at the moment."

He felt gloomy. He wished she would believe him, and then wished that he would believe himself. But they both knew that he could be thoroughly pigheaded sometimes (yesterday being a prime example), and when that happened, he was anything but rational. So he compromised by saying as sincerely as possible, "I really am sorry."

"I know."

And she was smiling gently at him. Then she moved forward to the last bowl of mixture, and poured some coconut into it. As she reached for the oatmeal, he got to his feet and came to stand beside her, sticking his finger into the mixture, and having a taste.

"Mm, this is also gonna be good," he said.

"I haven't even put all the ingredients in yet," she pointed out, indicating the oatmeal.

"You're putting oatmeal in a brownie?"

"This is a cookie recipe," she replied, pouring the oatmeal into her blender, and turning it on. "But I suppose I could." He watched it being reduced to powder as he helped himself to another finger of mixture.

"Could you rather eat a ready-made one?" She asked.

He grinned, and said, "Sure," before kissing her chocolate smudged cheek, and turning for the cooling pans. He grabbed one from a different pan, and leaned against the counter, chewing as he watched her stir the oatmeal into the mixture.

"You still angry?" he asked again.

"Yes."

There was a pause as he considered this, and then he asked, "Are we okay, though?"

She gave an exasperated sigh, and turned towards him.

"You know, just because I understand, and I forgive you, and we're okay, doesn't mean I don't get to be angry about this."

"Fair enough," he said with a nod. "But we're okay?"

"Of course," she murmured into the mixing bowl, and he wished he hadn't heard the slight hesitation in her voice.

"What is it that's not okay?"

She bit her lip, took a breath, scrunched her eyes closed, and then turned back to face him, but her eyes focused on the ground.

"I hate when you make me feel like I don't matter," she mumbled.

He cursed at himself. "You matter."

"I know that, but you don't always act like it." She looked directly into his eyes, and said firmly, "I need you to act like it, Cal. Particularly with the big things."

He stared back at her, and then murmured sincerely, "Okay."

She nodded, and whispered, "Okay."

There was another silence, and then he asked, "Would me telling you that I love you help?"

In spite of herself, her face softened. "Maybe."

"I love you, Gill. You matter."

She watched him, affection seeping into her eyes.

"Thanks. Back at you."

He grinned, walked straight towards her, and kissed her warmly. She kissed him back for a few seconds, and then pulled back.

"I'm still angry," she told him.

"As you should be," he agreed.

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** So … Not a very cheery episode, and not one of my favourites, to be honest so I really hope that you enjoyed this chapter anyway :-)


	16. 202 Truth or Consequences

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that came from any actual episodes.

**A/N:** What's up people :-) Sorry for that long delay, had a very hectic few months of varsity. Of course, end of year exams are now approaching, so my updates may be a bit erratic ... Or better with my inevitable procrastination. Who knows? Anyway, here's episode 2x02.

x x x

**Chapter 16: Truth or Consequences**

It was a whole week before Gillian clapped eyes on Zoe again, and luckily that had been more or less enough time for her to calm down, and hit her usual polite neutrality.

Still, she almost wished she could rather have heard whatever it was Loker had been about to say about chimpanzee sex than be interrupted by Zoe, standing outside Cal's office and smiling at them.

And she had hardly felt a rush of enthusiasm when Loker accosted her and Cal as they were exiting her office, and proudly announced, "You both need to see my chimpanzee sex tape."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," she grunted, exchanging a look with Cal. He smirked.

"Oh, it's the most interesting research I've done," Loker told them emphatically, walking backwards so that he could stay facing them. "The female benovo chimp; she'll entice a mate and sometimes attack with no provocation whatsoever-"

"Cal?"

And there was Zoe. The one bright side of her appearance was that it gave Cal the opening to say, "Oh. I'm familiar with the phenomenon."

Gillian attempted to hide her smirk as she looked expectantly at him, hoping he would provide some explanation. He pointed at her, and said simply, "We'll talk."

It was enough for her, though. She nodded, and turned to Loker, saying firmly, "Chimpanzee sex later, IRS case now."

She and Loker bickered a little about whether this Jamie fellow's little religious "compound" was a cult or not. She had started out diplomatically defending the cause, but by the time she and Loker left, she was bristling. It was a very unsettling operation, and she had to admit that it felt wrong. Absolutely wrong, although she had yet fully to put her finger on why.

Seemingly to annoy her, Loker proceeded to take it upon himself to become the man's defender, and on the whole, she grew progressively more irritable. Particularly when she noticed a member of the congregation that most certainly did not believe in, or trust, Jamie. And all Loker had to say on the matter was that she should be reported to the IRS.

When the day drew to a close, it was a relief. A day starting with Zoe and continuing with Loker in one of these moods, coupled by a creepy religious guy was always bound to be a bad one. And she hadn't seen Cal since that morning.

x x x

Cal didn't pretend to be rational when it came to the safety of his daughter. The safety of anyone he loved, really. But when it was Emily? He more or less lost all control of himself. So, upon discovering that his daughter had fake IDs, went to college bars and had contraceptives in her sock drawer, right in the middle of a rape case involving a girl in her school, he didn't exactly handle it with a calm come-what-may attitude. It was something more akin to panic.

And Cal Lightman didn't wear panic well.

After interrogating Emily, accusing her of lying, reading her and fiercely rifling through her possessions, Cal managed to yell at her enough to have her storming into the bathroom in tears and slamming the door behind her. And it absolutely did not help that Zoe managed to be the "cool" parent in the whole fiasco. It entirely undermined his point.

He sort of wished he could have had the confrontation with Gillian there instead. She was far more effective than Zoe at keeping him in control of himself. Zoe just made him feel more wound up. He returned to work in search of her, but she wasn't there.

So he returned to the case, and managed to establish that Cabe had not, in fact, knowingly had sex with an underage girl. That high was over all too soon, however, when the prosecutor informed them that Cabe had made an illegal sex video and distributed it on the internet.

Fantastic.

A day with Zoe, statutory rape, fight with Emily and now an unpleasant turn of events against his scientific judgment all added up to a pretty crap day in his book. And there had been woefully little of Gillian to help out there.

He needed to talk to her.

x x x

"Oh," was all Gillian had to say once he had reached the climax of his story about searching Emily's room.

They were sitting at the dining room table at his house and eating some pasta while he ranted about his day.

Cal glowered at her.

"Contraceptives, Gill! She had contraceptives!"

Gillian sighed and said, "Yes, I understand your point, Cal."

Cal's eyebrows shot up, and he observed, "Someone's in a mood."

She cast him an apologetic smile. It was true, she wasn't at her best. Gathering herself, she tried to listen without betraying the resignation she was feeling, because although she knew perfectly well that Cal would have reacted very badly to such a discovery, she was also supposed to be on his side.

"Go on," she said, and he gave a smirk at the automatic professional words that had slipped out. It was amazing how quickly he could switch from temper to amusement.

"Well, _Dr Foster_," he said with eye-twinkling sarcasm, and she fought the urge to laugh. "My daughter then proceeded to storm out of the room while her mother tried to tell me that it's a good thing she has them."

Uh oh, thought Gillian, because they were approaching dangerous territory. The sort of territory where she found herself agreeing more with Zoe than with Cal when it came to his daughter. It was dangerous from Cal's point of view, and supremely irritating from her own. There was nothing she wanted to do less at that point than agree with Zoe.

Too soon.

"Well?" Cal was saying. "What should I do then?"

"Um," said Gillian, and tried to think of a way not to make it seem that she was, in any way, agreeing with Zoe. "Well, Cal, maybe you should consider trusting Emily."

Cal looked at her as though she had suddenly morphed into a candy cane or something.

"Trust her? After everything I found out today?"

"Look, just because she was hiding that stuff from you, it doesn't make her untrustworthy. It just makes her wary of your reaction. Which, in her defense, you've proved to be a legitimate thought."

He was bristling.

"You saying I overreacted?" he demanded.

She eyed him. She knew he knew he had, but he probably wasn't quite in the place to admit it to himself just yet. He was still in the midst of his overreaction. He, however, appeared to read her "yes", and he shook his head in frustration as he reached for her empty plate.

She chewed her lip, and looked down at her lap, because she knew the speech was going to come, regardless of her words. And it did. As Cal cleared their plates and headed to the kitchen to do their dishes, he spoke furiously about being safe, the dangers that could befall innocent young girls, consequences and lies.

She wasn't even sure he needed her there at that point. She merely stood against his counter, facing his back as he furiously washed their plates, and listened to him get his fears off his chest. He needed to. Finally he let the water out of the sink and turned to face her, his forearms still wet and soapy.

"You don't think it's reasonable for me to be afraid for her?"

By this time, he had worked himself into a state of justified anger, so the words were spat a bit harshly at her, but she could read the deep fear behind the question.

She stepped forward at once, and placed her hands on his waist as she looked firmly into his face.

"I do think it's reasonable. You should be afraid for her, absolutely. That comes with being a good father. Cal, there's a line between being afraid for her, and being so afraid that you make things worse."

He was scowling.

"Wouldn't you rather she have the pills in case something happens than have her too afraid to keep protection around?"

Cal spluttered slightly, standing before her with his arms held slightly to the side so that he wouldn't get dish water on her clothes.

"I mean, I know that you'd rather she didn't have the risk, but she needs to live. She can't be locked up. So treat her like a person, like an adult, and rather than blow your top, try and have a mature conversation with her."

She had suddenly gotten a vision of those families trapped in that compound, those women and children who had no lives at all.

Cal's irritation flickered like a light bulb that was on the point of blowing, and she knew it was because he could see that she was upset and he was wrestling between the desire to argue and the desire to find out what was wrong.

After a moment he seemed to settle on the latter, and he said, "What happened in your day, darling?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him, and asked, "Really? It's my turn to rant? Because I don't think you were done."

He gave a shrug, and said, "It's your turn. I'll continue mine tomorrow."

He placed his lips against hers, and she suddenly just wanted to go to bed. She wanted to have sex with her man, and then fall into a happy Disney-laced sleep where everyone skipped around on meadows, free and happy while chatting up cute furry animals.

"All right, I'll tell you on the way upstairs," she said, watching him read her intention. He grinned, and kissed her again, his hands unable to stay off her any longer. She felt the damp warmth through her shirt, and couldn't care less. She was already feeling better.

x x x

The following day was a much worse one for Cal. He spent the day tacking down college students who would put sex tapes on the internet and seniors in his daughter's school who encouraged younger girls to lose their virginity to college boys. And tape it for proof. Seniors who, it turned out, were friends with his Emily.

He had another confrontation with his daughter about them, forgetting once more to be rational. She treated him with cool disdain, and he missed her.

In the end, the charges against Cabe were dropped. Cal and Zoe were pleased, but Susan's father certainly wasn't. He yelled and accused and demanded justice. Cal read violence, and was afraid. Afraid, because he recognised that irrational protectiveness for one's child, and knew that if he had any of the beliefs the man in front of him clearly was nursing, there would be little stopping him from doing something violent.

After spending quite some time watching the tapes, he called Gillian in. He needed her insight, because all he could see was a very angry man, and all he could feel was his own sympathy with such anger. He needed her clear head, her rationality.

"Hey, what's going on?" he heard her say behind him, and the relief he felt at her mere presence washed over him.

"I need fresh eyes on this," he told her urgently. "I think that the dad is gonna take a run at Cabe."

"Do you really think he'd go that far?" she asked worriedly.

"He doesn't want to put any blame on his daughter, so he's directing all his anger at Cabe," Cal explained, feeling horribly edgy and restless. He felt almost beside himself with agitation. Gillian gently placed a hand on his upper arm, and moved her fingers calmingly over his clothes as Loker started on about his chimps again.

"Not now, Loker, not now," said Cal distractedly. He moved forward to the screen, and immediately missed the warmth of Gillian's hand. "Not now. Um, play it again."

Of course, it took her about ten seconds to nail what had been irking him. "Listen to his words," she said urgently. ""They system is at fault", "The system has to make someone pay.""

"Oh, hell," he groaned.

And of course they were too bloody late.

Standing outside the prosecutor's house surrounded by police tape, cars with red and blue lights flashing silently on their roofs, cops standing around, the four of them watched as Susan's father was lead, handcuffed, to a seat in one of the cars. He glanced over, and caught Cal's eye. He had a gentle smile on his face. One of peace.

Feeling decidedly as though he couldn't stand here one more second, Cal turned on his heel and stalked away in the direction of his car. It took him a few moments to realise that Gillian wasn't following him. He turned around and stared at where she was standing until she glanced over in his direction. He saw her surprised look.

He jerked his head in the direction he was moving in a "come on" gesture, and without hesitation, she did. When she reached him, he turned without a word and continued on his way. She was right, of course. He certainly didn't want to talk about this right now. He wanted to act as though he was completely alone, but he wanted her beside him while he did.

Nope, he couldn't pretend to be rational on more than one level in his life.

She didn't speak as she walked slightly behind him. When they got to his car, he opened her door for her, and then went to the driver's side without a word. He was in a mood, and he could feel the rumbling deep in his chest. He was furious with himself for not picking up on it sooner, and was frankly suddenly more paranoid about not having Gillian at his side at all times.

She had seen it so quickly ...

He glanced quickly at her, hoping she wasn't going to tell him it wasn't his fault. She gave him one of those soft loving smiles of hers, but said nothing. He felt a surge of love for her, and said, "I want to speak to Emily."

"Sure."

"Tell me about your day," he requested, not wanting to focus on his one for another second.

She thought for a moment, and said, "I broke a family out of that compound. Loker says it's kidnapping. And the IRS is sort of mad at the Group now ..."

Cal looked over at her again, and laughed.

"Tell me," he said with a smile, shoving his guilt aside. He could just tell that this story would make him feel much better.

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N:** So considering the fact that I found so little time to write this in the recent past, it made it more difficult that this episode did little to inspire me. So I'm thinking I might skip out the odd dry episode here and there, because I feel that there are much better ones that I'd like to focus on. I hope that works for people? Let me know. Thanks so much for reading.


	17. 203 Control Factor

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that come from any actual episodes.

**A/N:** Hey guys. I really appreciate the feedback I got from the last chapter, and I guess the majority of the votes go to not skipping any episodes. So for now we'll go with that, although rest assured I was hardly going to skip out huge chunks or anything like that. But we'll see how it goes. Thanks so much for reading, and for all your positive feedback! Hope you enjoy episode 203!

x x x

**Chapter 17: Control Factor**

Cal and Gillian were lying in bed, naked and relaxed after a particularly satisfying bout of lovemaking. Cal was due to leave on his holiday to Mexico with Emily the following day.

"Come with us," he said for the umpteenth time.

"It's you and Emily time."

"Nah, she'd love it if you came."

"Well, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Come on, Cal, you know why not. I have to be at the Group. Someone's gotta take care of things -"

"That's ridiculous. So you're saying we'll never be able to take a holiday together?"

"Well ..."

"Oi."

She laughed.

"Look, maybe once our staff is trained up enough, but they're not in that place right now."

"So we don't take on any high profile cases for the next week."

"Forget it."

"We can work from the hotel-"

"You stay away from that laptop while you're away! I mean it, Cal!"

He scowled.

x x x

And so it was that Cal found himself sitting in his room at their hotel in Mexico with his daughter, but without his girlfriend. He _was_ spying on her on the laptop he had snuck into his hand luggage, though. Emily had already told him off more than once for being to work-obsessed, and he had promised he would stop the spying (even though that had only been once she had threatened to go and pick up boys by the pool if he didn't), but he reasoned that this was nothing to do with work.

Which was irrelevant anyway. He had found a case entirely by accident, and was thoroughly enjoying pursuing it, despite Emily's fairly unhelpful involvement. They had already called Torres (without consulting Gillian, of course) and she was on her way down so that she could go on her blind date with a potential kidnapper sicko. They were just waiting for her to arrive, so what the hell else was he supposed to do?

This was definitely not work-obsession. He was feeding his Gillian-obsession now. Although he had quickly snuck into his room while Emily was in the shower in order to avoid any confusion on the issue. He located Gillian on the monitors as she was walking down the hall with Torres looking exasperated. So she had found out then, he thought with a grin. He was going to have a lot to answer for when they had their nightly phone call.

He was just thinking that she looked unnaturally beautiful, even on a security camera, when his heart froze in his chest.

The next moment he felt decidedly pissed off.

What was Jack Rader doing in _his_ office, assessing _his_ case and flirting with _his_ girlfriend? What was even more supremely irritating (and disturbing) was the fact that she was flirting back. Yes, for the sake of the case, but genuine or not, he didn't like it.

And was she _blushing_?

His blood heated to an instant boil.

"Dad!"

He jumped, and glanced up at Emily.

"Yeah? What?" he snapped, his eyes flying back to the screen.

"Geez, what's wrong with you?" she asked, and then saw the laptop. "Are you working again?" she demanded accusingly.

"Hey, I was trying to have a nice holiday before you found a job for me, so I think you're being a little hypocritical, don't you?"

He glowered defensively at her, and she snorted.

"I'm not asking you to _spy_ on your employees. Or your girlfriend, come to that. So no, I renounce the title of hypocrite."

Cal gave a grunt, cast one more uncomfortable glance at Gillian and Rader herding a woman into an interview, and slammed his computer shut.

"Fine," he muttered crossly. "Let's go and have some lunch, then."

x x x

Gillian was feeling uncomfortable.

She had never much liked Jack Rader, but the man knew how to flatter and charm, and it made her blush whatever her feelings for him. And the fact that it made her blush made her feel just a little bit guilty, because she knew that had Cal seen that, he would have reacted very badly. Unnecessarily badly. Which was why it was tremendous good luck that he wasn't around.

Although she kept having the jumpy sense that he was about to appear behind her.

Her lack of enthusiasm at the sight of Rader had only intensified as the day wore on. On discovering that Cal had summoned Torres to Mexico to help him on a case (a _case_) without consulting her catapulted her into frustration.

"He's on _vacation_," she spluttered, but Torres was already gone.

She had then had the undesirable task of flirting with Rader in front of the suspects, and to her annoyance, his flirtations were undeniably genuine.

"So how is it working for Cal?" he asked her as they hovered in the doorway of the conference room where their two suspects were sitting. "It's been so long, I can't remember."

"I work with Cal," she corrected. "I'm an equity partner, you know."

Of course he knew. It was written all over his smirk, and his fake impressed surprise as he said, "Good for you. That means Cal's been working on his control issues."

"Jack," she protested.

"Well, it's either that, or he responds to certain methods of persuasion I hear you've been employing."

"Oh, come on," she snapped, feeling genuinely horrified. She and Cal never brought up their relationship in front of clients or suspects. Or anyone work-related. She tried to remember what she was doing. "How did you know about that, anyway?"

"People talk, Gillian." Here he cast her an appreciative smirk, and said suggestively, "Not that I blame him, you know. You were always distracting to have around, and I can see that hasn't changed."

She flushed involuntarily, and he looked very pleased with himself. It was annoying to say the least.

"I bet Cal wouldn't be happy to see us talking like this, you know."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and said firmly, "If we're gonna work together, I have some ground rules." He raised his eyebrows, but she ignored it. "First, I'm the boss around here. Second, don't try using me to get back at Cal."

He was unphased, and working a twinkle into his eye, he said, "So long as you admit that there's just the tiniest moment happening right now."

She blushed again, mainly because Loker was watching and Jack was looking very sincere. Before she had the chance to say that she would admit to no such thing, and that if he continued down this road, she would file a sexual harassment suit against him while Cal beat his face into a pulp, one of the suspects piped up irritably, "Hey, Romeo and Juliet! You wanna get this show on the road? People could be dying right now!"

x x x

"What the hell is Jack Rader doing in my office?" was the first thing Cal said to Torres when she reached him at the airport. He had been stewing about this for several hours, and had dialled Gillian's number and then hung up so many times he had lost count. Seeing Jack Rader in his office at all was enough to make his blood pressure spike. He didn't trust the man for a second, and all he wanted was to call Gillian and tell her to get rid of him. But he knew the trouble that would get him into, so he had decided to interrogate Torres instead.

"Um," she said, looking caught off-guard. "He's … working the case with Foster -"

"Why?"

"I think the client hired him when they found out you weren't gonna be there … Why, what's the problem?"

Deciding not to share the fact that he had been worked into a jealous rage at the sight of his least favourite person flirting with his girlfriend, Cal didn't bother replying. He just turned and stalked away, leaving Torres to follow in his wake.

Sadly she was a natural, and she was Torres, so she said, "Oh my God, you're jealous aren't you?"

There was a mix of amusement and exasperation in her voice.

"Of course not," he retorted, more out of habit than any delusion that she would believe him.

"Yeah, right," she muttered, and he ignored her. Instead, he began filling in the reason for her presence.

Seeing Emily chatting to the potential kidnapper sicko provided an effective distraction for a while, although it hardly removed the strain. This was turning into some holiday.

That evening he was camped out at the bar of the hotel where Torres was meeting the guy. He was supposed to be watching her back, but his concentration was taken up by the security feeds on his lap top. Rader and Gillian were interviewing two lab technicians, and Rader was staring a little too much for Cal's liking. He glanced at his watch. It was still too early to call her.

It was maddening.

It took another hour before Torres deserted her date to meet Cal and tell him that the guy was innocent.

"I can't believe you told him I like role playing and dirty limericks, you …"

She was shaking her head at him, but unable to hide her amusement.

He grinned back, and teased, "Don't knock it 'til you try, dear."

She pulled a face at that, and he wondered if she was thinking about Gillian. But then he noticed the goon hovering nearby. By the time he had finished confronting him, and yelling at the cop for sending him after him in the first place, it was finally time for his phone call.

He paced his room restlessly as he dialled Gillian's home number. She answered after only two rings with a warm, "Hey!"

"Yeah, hi," he said distractedly. He wasn't going to hold back now. He had had more than enough time with Torres that Gillian would expect him to know about Rader.

She sighed across the phone, and said, "So you know about Jack, then."

_Jack_? The use of the first name caused his thoughts to stumble for a moment before he regained his faculties.

"Yeah, what's he doing there?" he demanded.

"The client wanted someone else on the case since you weren't here," she explained, and he could hear her annoyance. Of course, that was rather insulting, and he knew for a fact that Gillian was better than Rader. But that was hardly the point.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked next.

"I was going to tell you now," she said in some exasperation. "And why didn't you tell me that you were going to take Torres because you're working on a case while you should be relaxing?"

"I was going to tell you now," Cal mimicked irritably.

"Cal, come on. Torres is supposed to be here. What if I needed her?"

"Well, look, I knew you'd get all annoyed, and you know anyway. So, what's Rader up to? Has he tried anything?"

"Like what?" she asked, puzzled.

"I don't know," said Cal in frustration. "Has he been near any of my stuff?"

Including you? Of course he couldn't say that.

"I've kept him out of your study, don't worry. And don't think you can change the subject away from this case you're working on."

"Don't think you can change the subject from Rader," he retorted.

"Oh, for God's sake, you're exhausting. And I know you took your laptop!"

Cal rolled his eyes.

"Come down to Mexico," he said irrationally.

"What? Don't be absurd!"

"Why not?"

"I'm in the middle of a rather time-sensitive case, Cal!"

"So am I. Come and help with mine, and let Rader take that one."

Judging from the chilly silence that now radiated down the phone, that had been very much the wrong thing to say.

"So you think Rader can handle this better than me?"

She sounded both angry and hurt.

"That's ridiculous, Gillian!" said Cal in disbelief. Women made life so difficult sometimes. Although, he supposed her abilities had already been doubted once today. He added in sincerity, "If I thought that, he'd be my partner, not you. I just -"

"What then? Your case is more important than mine?"

"I just want you here!" he blurted out desperately, and then flopped backwards onto his bed in agitation.

There was a bit of a pause, and then her puzzled voice came down the line.

"Why?"

He sighed. He supposed he should tell her he had seen the flirting, but he didn't see how that would help. He would merely be told off for spying, and then for having no reason for being jealous. He might even get the dreaded "Don't you trust me?" speech that wasn't usually Gillian's style, but she _was_ a bit emotional at that moment.

He had obviously been silent too long, because she said, "Cal?"

He debated saying that he missed her, but she wouldn't fall for that. Not that it wasn't true, of course. He missed her far too much … it was the reason for the spying in the first place. But she would know that wasn't the real reason for his mood. So he decided simply to change the subject completely, and hope that she would take it as the white flag he meant it to be.

"Wanna hear about my case?" he asked in a friendly tone.

There was another slight pause, and then she said, "I'd love to."

Peace offering accepted.

For now, anyway.

Cal entertained himself the next day by turning the sprinklers on Rader and a reporter in the halls of the Group. Torres entertained herself by telling him that Loker thought Foster was "a bit gaga" over Rader, and watching him bristle.

Yeah, he had to do something about this.

x x x

Two days later, both their cases had been solved. Gillian was happy to see the back of Jack Rader, who by now had manipulated her in so many directions that she didn't know what to think. First the flirting and encouragement, then the interview with the reporter without permission, then the compliment in the interview … She was sick of having him mess with her head.

At that point, she was very much looking forward to seeing Cal. She glanced at her watch. It wouldn't be much longer now. She was surprised at how much the distance from him had affected her. She rather wished it hadn't, to be perfectly honest. It was yet another reminder that she was very much reliant on his presence. Reliant. She had never been reliant on a man. Not even Alec, someone who she had loved enough to promise her life to him.

Strange how foreign the thought now seemed.

The distance had clearly gotten to Cal, too. Things had been uncomfortable and tense during their telephone conversations (although his stress over anything Rader-related hardly helped). On the whole, things would be easier once they could see each other again. Which couldn't be much longer than half an hour now she thought, looking at her watch again.

As if on cue, the pilot's announcement came across the intercom, announcing their impending descent to Mexico City, and requesting that everybody please return to their seats, put their chairs in the upright position, fold their trays away and buckle their seatbelts. He thanked them profusely for choosing to fly with him, and expressed a deep hope that they had had a pleasant flight.

Gillian found that she was grinning. Despite all her protests, she was glad Cal had finally convinced her to take the Friday off and join him and Emily for the rest of the weekend. He had even put Emily on the phone so that she could assure Gillian that her father was a complete bore without her there.

"Come on, Gill, he's so mopey!"

It took something closer to forty five minutes before she had finally disembarked, made it through passport control and located her luggage. She dragged her suitcase behind her as she stepped into the arrivals waiting area. Almost immediately, she heard her name called out in Emily's voice, and she turned in that direction to see the girl in question grinning and waving.

Beside her stood her father, and Gillian felt something sink into her chest at that sight that could probably best be described as relief, although it was substantially more intense. Emily skipped over to her and gave her a hug, and the two of them walked back to where Cal was standing. He was smiling warmly at Gillian.

As soon as she was within reach, he pulled her tightly into his arms, and she grasped him against her.

"I missed you," she said, even though she knew he already knew that.

"I missed _you_," he replied, even though she knew he knew she knew that. "We definitely have to sort out this travelling thing."

She giggled into his neck, and then pulled back. He was right.

He gave her a quick kiss, and then took her bag for her. The three of them strolled along the wide room towards the exit, and she felt Cal's warm arm wrap around her waist. It felt strangely possessive.

"So, you were spying on the office?"

He started, and looked at her.

"No," he said unconvincingly.

"Dad!" Emily reprimanded.

"Torres told me you already knew about Rader when she arrived," Gillian informed Cal.

"Traitor."

"You need to learn to distance yourself, Cal," Gillian sighed, giving a mocking shake of her head.

"I agree," Emily put in. "You're _such_ a workaholic."

Cal's eyes made contact with Gillian, and she saw enough to realise that he had not, in fact, been spying on his office when he had seen Rader. He had been spying on _her_. This made her blush for more than one reason, flattery and guilt being the two major contenders.

He gave her a cocky grin, and she knew she was going to have to make up for the flirting he had undoubtedly witnessed. Well, she was good at making things up to him, she thought, and smiled back at him as she wrapped her arm around his waist as well.

x x x

**TBC**


	18. 204 Honey

**Disclaimer:** Lie to Me characters and concept do not belong to me. Nor does any dialogue or storyline that I have used that come from any actual episodes.

**A/N:** Hey guys! I'm pulling the whole exam excuse again :-D But anyways, here's Honey, and a very sincere thanks for your patience.

x x x

**Chapter 18: Honey**

All in all, by the time Eric Matheson showed up at the Group waving his gun around and threatening to kill everyone in sight, the day hadn't been going well for Cal anyway.

Going to a singles mixer to investigate a potential cheating wife, and then having a shouting match with Gillian about their financial situation because he had bought Zoe out were not things he enjoyed.

The stupid mixer had put him in a bad mood already. In fact, he had been in a bad mood simply driving there. And it was all Gillian's fault really, having talked him into it in the first place. It was out of that frustration towards her more than anything that spurred him to approach the most attractive woman there and ask, "If we were in a hotel room, and you could order one thing from room service, would you get chocolate cake, strawberries or warm honey?"

It had been his pick-up line for years, and he always seemed to use it on women who chose warm honey. Except Gillian, who had retorted that she would get all three as well as something a little more substantial, and if he was too cheap to let her, then she wouldn't be in his hotel room for long. That conversation had happened before they had gotten together when he had used the line to flirt with a woman for a case once. Just the memory of that got him over his little flash of spite.

In any event, he accidently wound up with the woman slipping her card into his hand as he was leaving, a seductive look in her eyes. Definitely warm honey. He absent-mindedly shoved the card into his pocket for lack of anywhere else to put it and walked away, his last thought about her before she vanished from his mind being one of regret for approaching her at all.

Arriving back at the Group in a decidedly cranky mood, Cal disposed of the suspicious ex-husband and promptly got into a bitter argument with Gillian about the whole thing. They had been bickering on and off about this for a while, but the past week had been particularly bad. Gillian was stressed out, and he was stubborn. He had his dignity after all, and whether or not this whole financial crisis was his fault, he wasn't going to allow that to besmirch his science. In any event, this was the first argument actually to get out of hand, and the first time she had blatantly reminded him that he had caused this. She had just lost her temper and slammed an armful of paperwork into his chest when Matheson arrived with his arm around Torres' throat and his gun in the air.

It all got very serious very quickly when one of the interns sprinted out of the corridor, causing Matheson to prove exactly how trigger happy he was. Two of the loudest shots Cal had ever heard rang out, and he staggered sideways to make sure he stood between Gillian and Matheson, his hand held in front of him, as he yelled for Matheson to stop. He then very quickly manoeuvred Torres out of danger as he pointed out that he was Cal Lightman of the Lightman Group. He was the one Matheson was after. He was the one who could help. And then finally he manipulated the safety of the rest of his employees by convincing Matheson to follow him to his office.

Throughout the tense conversation Cal's heart pounded uncontrollably, but he was clear on his immediate objective, which was to ensure nobody got hurt. But that didn't stop him from saying fiercely to Gillian, "No police!"

He knew that look in her eye, the one that said she was pretty sure the police needed to be called. But as they made eye contact, he knew she had seen how serious he was, and knew that she trusted him. They were safe for now.

Well … safe-ish.

x x x

Gillian regained her composure very quickly. She did this thanks to years of experience being married to a drug addict who would come home in various states of disrepair. She bottled up all the sick fear that had flooded her stomach, and stashed it to the side so that she could face the job at hand. With Alec, it had merely involved shoving him into a shower or bed (depending on how likely it was he was going to fall over).

Right now, the problem was a bit more complex. But she took a breath, and decided that the first move was to get Reynolds, who probably had far more experience in dealing with this sort of thing and, conveniently, was not technically a cop. And Loker, because he was their best technical expert.

Reynolds, predictably, was less than impressed on discovering the situation. Gillian had to use her best vulnerable face to win him over. Luckily, that wasn't too difficult, because all she had to do was let out just the tiniest drop of the fear that was sealed away, just the smallest molecule, as she snapped loudly, "If we do not do exactly what this guy says, he will kill Cal!" and she was already so frightened that it showed all over her face.

And then Cal called her into his office.

She was more relieved to be in there with him than frightened of Matheson. Cal asked something insignificant about how the others were doing and she replied off-handedly, but they spoke mountains with their eyes. She told him that she loved him, that she was terrified for him and that she would do everything in her power to protect him. He told her that he knew that, that he loved her and that he would make sure they all got out of this alive. They shared in their longing for this not to be happening, to be back in the middle of some silly argument away from guns and angry madmen.

All this passed between them in seconds, before Cal handed her a piece of paper. He told her that this was the guy Eric _knew_ to be the real suspect, and asked her to track him down and talk to him. His eyes told her how very sorry he was for asking her to do this, and begged her to be safe. When Matheson lost his temper and thrust his gun at Gillian, Cal yelled and reasoned and seemed firm and level. His voice told her that he was terrified, too. Terrified that she might get hurt. And when he looked at her again, his eyes were so vulnerable and tender, she thought her heart might break. And then she realised that his eyes were mirroring her own expression right now, and that he could see her own vulnerability, and that was why he was … She tried to stop thinking too much, because the bottle holding her fear was running out of space.

x x x

"You married?" Matheson asked suddenly.

"Not anymore, no," said Cal, as though he was having this conversation over a cup of coffee, as opposed to a gun. They had been sitting waiting for Gillian for somewhere around half an hour now.

"So, which one you banging? Uptown chick, or the salsa queen that drove me here?"

Feeling a flash of irritation, Cal had to exercise extreme self-control to prevent a typical snarky retort. Instead, he said mildy, "Not really your business, is it?"

"So, both of 'em?"

Cal didn't bother responding, which Matheson seemed to take as confirmation. "That's one thing I got over guys like you," he spat. "My woman loved me. We had something real. Guys like you ... empty. So, you try and fill yourself up with nice suits and stupid art and show-off books and by nailing your employees in the copy room."

Cal observed this tirade with interest, not remotely offended because he knew how off-base Matheson was, and began to pick up what bothered this guy.

"You got a job, Eric?" he asked curiously.

He was, truthfully, almost getting bored. He wanted to find something out, understand this guy. Anything other than waiting for Matheson suddenly to get angry for no clear reason and start gesturing with the gun yet again. Establishing that Matheson had some sort of complex about not being the provider of the house was interesting, and he stored the information away. His gun-wielding companion, however, didn't take kindly to being analysed, so Cal sighed and waited for him to calm down again.

He was tired.

No. He was scared.

x x x

It had been frightening enough for Gillian to convince Matheson that they needed to be in the lab to watch that stupid tape. She and Cal had exchanged a couple of quick "this is necessary, trust me please" looks, but behind it all, she saw that he was scared. And seeing Cal Lightman scared was extremely scary in itself.

But then Matheson got angry again when Cal found out about the loan his wife had been trying to pay back, and he got closer to the brink of his temper than he had so far. Gillian's heart came to a near stop as she stared at the monitor, too afraid even to cry. Cal's eyes were screwed shut as well. And Cal never closed his eyes. What he could see was his advantage, his weapon. Why was he closing his eyes?

She wanted to scream.

But once again, Matheson stopped himself, and gave the name of the friend he had borrowed the money from. Gillian's relief was so intense, that she had to vanish to the bathroom to allow the tears to leak out in private. She was strict with herself, though, and didn't allow a breakdown. Not yet.

Having Reynolds on her side was probably the only thing that kept her strong, because that man knew how to get things done, and he wasn't wasting that talent today.

x x x

This was all too much for Ben Reynolds.

He absolutely could not believe that he was doing this. This wasn't him. He wasn't a leave-the-cops-out-of-this-DIY-detective-thriller-paperback-Tom-damn-Cruise kind of guy. But one look at the frightened desperate eyes of Gillian Foster, and he was a lost cause. And as the day progressed, it became clearer to him exactly how aware she was of her power over men, and how willing she was to use it for Cal Lightman. How willing she was to do anything for him.

The best Ben could manage was to try compromises. He managed to get the rest of the employees of the Group out safely. He also managed to get Gillian to move Matheson into the lab. That had been all so far, but still, it was something. However, he couldn't stop her from going alone into that bar to flirt Zancanelli into Reynolds' grasp.

He gaped as she put on lipstick, flashed him her cleavage and disappeared from his view. It occurred to him then that he now had more than one reason for Lightman to kill him when he got out of there: he had let Gillian do this ridiculously dangerous thing alone, and he was having decidedly inappropriate thoughts about her after the little view she had given him. He was only human after all.

To his relief, her plan worked.

Regardless, he had to find a way to resist her charms. Because he was pretty sure somehow that this was all a terribly bad idea. He knew how dedicated she was to Lightman, how dedicated they were to each other. But this had to stop. He had to be the voice of reason. He had to protect the both of them from themselves.

x x x

It took some more discussion, but it all became clear very soon. Clear how Matheson revered his wife, and how he hated himself. Clear by the look in his eyes.

"That's your guilt, isn't it?" murmured Cal, staring at him. "For contaminating her. You didn't want to drag her into your world. You considered her a pure soul, and you tried like hell to keep her that way." He suddenly winced to himself as realisation flooded him. "And now she's dead."

Matheson glared at him and Cal felt his own heart fill with misery as he began to identify more and more with this man.

"There's no way you could tell that just by looking at my face," said Matheson softly, and Cal could see the pain etched into every one of his features.

"No, just the guilt part," Cal mumbled. Right now, he only had Gillian's face in his mind's eye, those bright clear eyes, so good, so innocent, so pure. And he, Cal, was putting her in danger. Danger of losing that. Of losing herself.

Matheson was watching him as he slowly sat down. He seemed to have realised that they had something in common.

"Where does the rest come from, then?" he asked Cal.

There was a long silence as Cal fought the desire to tell Matheson to mind his own bloody business again. Instead, against all his instincts, he whispered the truth.

"Well, that's how I feel sometimes about a woman _I_ know."

It was somewhere around there that Cal became desperate to get out of the situation. Get out of the possibility of hurting Gillian by getting himself killed. And so he tried as hard as he could to talk Matheson down. It was working, too, until the stupid cops showed up.

And all of a sudden, despite Torres' deft handling of the situation, the likelihood of his death seemed very high indeed.

He hated how afraid he was.

He hated that he had to see Gillian crying as she begged Matheson to let him go.

He hated her pain and terror.

He hated the possibility of leaving her.

x x x

Telling Matheson the truth about why Connie had died was not something Gillian relished. It would be so painful for him that she knew he might react in a temper. Might kill Cal. But she had to tell him, because there was nothing left to do. He reacted with predictable stunned horror, and began to display the irrational pain and anger. Seeing the opportunity to get Cal out safely slipping away, and feeling her eyes fill with tears at the thought, she managed to say shakily, "Eric, we did everything that y-you asked. Let him go."

"Foster," mumbled Cal warningly, staring at her, but she kept her eyes on Eric.

"_Please_," she begged, but it certainly wasn't working.

"Gillian," said Cal now, and she finally looked into his eyes. They were both terrified. His eyes begged her to walk away, begged her to stop, and it took everything she had to listen to him. To trust him. She swallowed hard, nodded, and backed slowly out of the room. Unable to tear her eyes away. Always afraid that this would be the last time she would see him alive.

She told him she loved him with her eyes.

x x x

Reynolds was watching the monitor over their shoulders as Matheson began to yell that he wanted to speak to Zancanelli. Watched as he got angrier. Watched as Gillian covered her mouth in panic, as Torres blanched, as everyone around him more or less reacted as though Lightman had just been shot.

It was scary for him, knowing that they all knew this guy was about to shoot.

Even scarier when Gillian rounded on him and told him that they had to do what Matheson said.

"Just march Zancanelli out there so this guy can shoot him?" he demanded furiously. "Welcome to the one thing I _won't_ do today!"

He felt as though she must have lost her mind. And it made him realise how afraid she must be, how desperate she must be, how he would never be able to live with himself if he allowed Cal Lightman to die on her.

It seemed Loker had the same sense of urgency, because he came up with a ridiculous idea that Ben only went with because he had no other choice. Because it was the only chance he had that Gillian Foster wouldn't break into pieces in front of him.

And thank God that plan worked, too.

x x x

Cal couldn't think much. He felt the need to throw up, or something. In a daze, he walked out, handed the gun to Gillian, and didn't respond to her touch. He felt too sick. He had to get _away_. He walked and walked until he realised he was at his car, and then he got in and drove. He needed a drink, for God's sake.

He stopped at the first bar he came across, which happened to be a hotel bar, and sat on a barstool. He ordered a scotch, and ignored the world. All he could think was that he really needed his heart rate to slow down, his stomach to stop clenching, his breathing to stop coming in gasps. His phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket. It was a text from Gillian. All it said was, "I'll be at my place. Love."

He hesitated. He knew he should call her, or reply, but at that moment he was far too terrified to make contact. Terrified of the pain, of the guilt. He didn't want to reach for meaning. He just couldn't _care_ right now.

He suddenly realised there was a card that he was gripping along with his phone. He must have had it in his pocket as well. He slipped it out from behind the phone, and stared at it. Then he clicked. The warm honey girl.

Before he had really thought about it, he was calling the number on the card.

"Hello?"

"Hi," he said.

There was a pause, and then she asked, "I'm sorry, who's this?"

"We met at the mixer today."

"Oh, right," he could hear the warmth in her voice. "I recognise the accent."

"Care to join me for a drink?"

After he had hung up, he found himself feeling more numb than before, which was an improvement. At that point, he didn't feel guilty or afraid. He had no intention of sleeping with her, or making any kind of a move. He just wanted to have a superficial flirtatious conversation with someone who had no idea what kind of day he'd had, and who didn't care. Someone who hadn't spent the day terrified and heartbroken because of him. Someone who didn't have a pure soul that he would taint.

She arrived twenty minutes later, as he was ordering his third scotch. She looked unbelievably beautiful, and he could tell she had put in the effort to look that way. He felt a bit bad for her, but she would get over it in the end.

She sat down, smiling invitingly, and he felt helplessly flattered that she seemed so attracted to him. She didn't even know him. Actually, that probably helped, he thought dryly to himself. Unfortunately, he found that he was unable to hold a light-hearted conversation, and his flirtatious programming seemed to have shut down.

A simple question like, "So what do you do?" elicited only introspection and gloom. Maybe this wasn't what he needed after all. He suddenly wished he could just be _held_ for a while. In silence. In comfort.

Almost as though the universe was trying to make a point, her next words were, "So, describe your perfect woman."

He thought of all the things he could say about Gillian, the many many things. Stuff like she's intelligent and beautiful and all those classic words. Then his favourite things about her, like she's loyal and she loves unconditionally and she loves my daughter and I trust her. She's always on my side. She protects me. She lets me protect her. Or try, anyway. He could protect her from everything except himself, and no-one could deny that he brought trouble and pain. Today was a perfect example. But the one that stuck out, that flew into his head first and permeated every other description was: She's my best friend. So that's what he said.

"She's my best friend."

Warm honey girl's eyebrows shot up, and he realised that he was being a jerk to her, too.

"I shouldn't be here," he admitted apologetically. "I'm sorry."

The girl eyed him in some annoyance, but then nodded her head and sipped her drink.

"Well, does your best friend know she's your ideal woman?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I guess the real question is whether or not I'm her ideal man."

"Are you?"

He stared for a while, and then admitted softly, "She seems to think so, but probably not."

The girl rolled her eyes, and waved at the barman to bring her another drink.

"Look, since you just wasted my evening, I'm not going to be polite about this," she informed him. "But you're being a chauvinist jerk."

"Excuse me?" snapped Cal.

She gave an exasperated sigh.

"It's her call, not yours. If she thinks you're her perfect man, and God help her if she does, that's her business, and you should just be grateful. And maybe try to be better than you're being right now."

She picked up the drink that had just been handed to her, took a slug and then glared sulkily at the wall behind the bar.

Cal thought about the fact that she might have a point in the end, and that he truly was grateful, and he did try to be as good for Gillian as possible. Until he went and did something stupid like run away from her after the love of her life (as she sometimes called him) had spent the day nearly getting killed before her eyes. This wasn't trying. This was running. He was glad he had caught himself. It was sometimes too easy to slip into self-loathing and lose perspective.

x x x

Gillian was sitting huddled up on her couch and staring at the TV without interest. She had no idea what she was watching, and she didn't care. She was using all her concentration on trying not to think about Cal. She knew he would come over at some point, probably when she was already asleep so he wouldn't have to talk about it. Not that she was likely to fall asleep with any ease that night.

She was surprised, therefore, when she heard his keys at the door just after eight. So early. He let himself in, and she stood up at once to go to him, to wrap her arms around him in a tight desperate hug, which he fiercely returned. When they eventually pulled apart, he turned to close the door, before moving to hold her in his arms again. Unable to help herself, she pulled him into another embrace, burying her face in his neck. She could feel him burrow into her hair, and then he mumbled, "I'm sorry I ran out like that."

"That's okay," she murmured gently. "Everyone's dealing with it in their own way ..." She paused, and then asked, "Where'd you go?"

He sighed into her hair, and said, "A bar. No fun without you there."

She smiled, and kissed the skin that was at her mouth. Neither of them felt any inclination to let go.

"Look, that whole accounts thing," he said, uncomfortably, "I mean, we'd be working out of a shoebox if it weren't for you, so really, that's all yours. And I'll respect that."

She chuckled gently, amused that he had been worrying about that of all things, and said, "It's okay. I know you hate that kind of stuff, and I mean, we're better than cheating spouse cases. Besides, I don't need to be sending you off to flirt with other women."

There was a pause from her shoulder, and then his muffled voice said quietly, "Well, whatever you decide. I'm just sorry I got so angry."

"We were both angry; I didn't take it personally," she said comfortingly into his collar.

He pulled away then, and kissed her warmly. Then he asked her, "Do you think of me as your ideal man?"

She hadn't seen that coming, but she decided not to question it. He'd had a hard day after all.

"Of course," she said sincerely. "You're my best friend, and I love you. What else could I ask for?"

"Even when I'm ... Causing trouble?"

She grinned at him, and said, "Well, you wouldn't be you if you didn't cause trouble."

He smiled back at her, but she was a bit startled to see pain in his eyes.

"What's the matter?" she asked, concerned.

"I ... I just want you to be happy, you know."

He was muttering, and avoiding her eyes. She leaned over to kiss the side of his mouth, and told him very firmly, "I'm happy. I'm happy with you."

He smiled widely this time, and she was relieved to see a light return to his eyes.

"So, you should move in with me, then."

Surprised, she nevertheless smiled and said, "I should?"

"Yeah. We make each other happy. I'd like to live with the person who makes me happy."

She found herself feeling a great rush of affection for him. It wasn't as though she hadn't seen this coming - it had been brought up before. But he was speaking with decision this time, looking at her earnestly, and then, almost as though he had been standing in her head, he added, "We've talked about it before. Don't you think it's about time?"

She nodded, and murmured, "I guess it is." Then she reached over with her hand, and ran her fingers over his cheek.

"That's a yes, then?"

"It's a yes."

She was surprised at how happy he looked right then. Just happy. He hugged her warmly again, and sighed into her ear, "It helps, coming home to you after a day like today."

"Good," she said against his neck, and then added because she absolutely couldn't not, "I love you so much, Cal."

"Back at you, darling."

x x x

**TBC**

**A/N: **Thanks!Hope that was worth the read. I really appreciate your thoughts! :-)


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